#it works! Sorry its so lengthy. The brain lit up

[swingbakuraryou]

"I'm not sure where I am... But what I'm sure is that you look like someone I know." As a ghost he's been able to travel between dimensions. But time travel, however, is tricky. Something must've gone wrong. Nothing seems familiar to what he's been used to. "Could you tell me the name of this place?" // Hope this works!

"16.....16....16... Where is 16?" Ryou muttered as he flipped through the piles of paper on the dingy moldy desk in the wine cellar. Apparently there was going to be a special guest and they had requested a very specific wine, and who to do it than the part time booze runner on his day off? Ryou felt the fluids in his shoulders drain as the veil between worlds gave a little shift, nothing big, perhaps if you had to equate the sensation, a slight breeze through gossamered curtains. Ryou rolled his eyes as he continued on shuffling through the mess. Likely a psychic from another world peeking into his, or a kid playing with circles, or some small little combo of two small magical instances colliding, or perhaps just a small cat who had completed its 9 lives cycle and was here to start another. "Where the hell is it?!" He growled tossing the useless clipboard onto the desk, and started on another pile, on his day off and he had to rifle through this mess. Then a deep voice spoke up. Ah so a psychic. "Welcome to the era of the 1920s in Domino City....the year of the dance, booze, and unrestrained inhibitions." Ryou recited dully as though this had happened before and was a low wage tour guide. "Yeah yeah yeah, I just happen to have that sort of face. A face that everyone seems to know but not know. Consider me that person who you've probably passed a hundred times and never greeted." He said as he started with the drawers.

He shoved the last drawer close and started to straighten out with "Honestly, out of all the places you could have landed... you're in the cellar of the Keepers Tom-" he froze, streaks of golden blond hair and a pair of vibrant violet eyes caught the light of the lantern on the desk. Instinct took over as his hand swiped the tall stack of papers and kicked the stool towards him and shuffled back putting distance between them. Through the flurry of musty papers, Ryou stood ready with a glowering look and a hunting knife at the ready, "YOU! Back for another round?!" He snarled at the dimly lit man still partially obscured in the the dimensional fog. Yet, he knew that silhouette all too well. The soon to be crowned King of Domino and the bastard had a new magic trick. Or, so he thought.

[spencerreidsconverse]

When Evil Doesn't Sleep

summary: Spencer has been gone far too long on a case and when he finally returns home, reader shows him just how much she missed him.

word count: 3.4k

warnings: smut, implied dom/sub undertones, pet names

Pairing: Spencer Reid/Female Reader

A/N: My first fic!!! I hope you all enjoy! <3

“Y/n I’m really sorry but it looks like the case is going to take a lot longer than we thought. We had a recent development and the profile is now pointing to a partnership so now we’re hunting down two unsubs”. You sighed as Spencer rattled off his apologies through the phone before putting him out of his misery “Spencer honey, you don’t have to apologize. Quit worrying about me and focus on catching the bad guys.”

To say you missed Spencer would be the understatement of the century. He had been in Utah for six days already and now with a pair of psychos your odds of finding him in your bed by the end of the week were growing increasingly slim. It didn’t help that you had been swamped prepping for an extra class you’d agreed to take on at Georgetown where you worked as a Criminal Psychology professor. Between both of your hectic work schedules you hadn’t had a real weekend to yourselves in a few months, and while you knew when you first started dating Spencer that it was an inevitable of his job, it had never been this crazy before. They say evil never sleeps but lately it hasn't even taken a catnap.

“I love you Y/N. I promise I’ll come home to you soon and take you out on a real date. I’m sorry darling, I have to go. I’ll text you when I get to the hotel tonight and if you’re still up we can talk for a bit okay?”. “Alright Spence, I love you too. Stay safe okay?”. “I promise, goodbye love.”

Your farewell barely made it past your lips when the dial tone cut you off and once again your boyfriend of three years vanished from your side of the country. You let out an exasperated sigh before reminding yourself that there were other people who needed his help and that you could wait for his attention - at least until that night. Continuing the trek up the stairs of your and spencer’s shared apartment, you managed to haphazardly balance your grocery bags in one hand while unlocking the door and disabling the security alarm, internally cringing at the high shriek that rattled through your brain.

Walking through the living room, you sat the bags on your kitchen counter and began reorganizing the small fridge space to fit all the perishables you had brought home, absentmindedly hoping they wouldn't spoil now that it would be just you for several more days. Moving to the cupboard you replaced the few grab and go snack boxes you had made up to try and encourage Spencer to eat more throughout the day and refilled the paper plate stash that quickly became a requirement after you realized neither one of you could tolerate doing dishes every night. You ripped open the cardboard packaging of yet another microwave dinner and set the timer before leaving to change into more comfortable attire.

Opening the door of your shared bedroom, the smell of vanilla wax melts and dryer sheets hit you like a brick and immediately sent a pang of loneliness through your chest. Spencer was usually around by the time the chores needed done, and you rarely had to do them yourself. Unfortunately, the laundry was piling up and you needed something to distract you so you spent the day running errands and cleaning the apartment more thoroughly than necessary. You walked over to the stack of black dresser drawers and pulled out the first pair of pajama pants you touched, Spencer’s old caltech sweats that now fit you far better than him considering he had received them when he was 14. They looked more like capris on him now and it was embarrassingly difficult to convince him to buy a new pair that fit him properly. You slipped on a tank top and pulled your hair back before making your way lazily to the bathroom to take off the remnants of your simple makeup.

After scrubbing your face clean and pulling your dinner out, you moved to ready the couch for yet another night of binge watching cheesy 90s movies. You selected Clueless and watched the vibrant colors pop across the screen while you dived into your meal, making a poor attempt to ignore the slight freezer burnt taste that lingered after every bite. You finished your dinner and set the bowl aside before covering yourself with a blanket and allowing yourself to sink into the cushions, desperately awaiting Spencer's text.

You were jolted out of your doze by the loud buzzing of your phone against the wooden coffee table. Clumsily you reached for it and managed to swipe the answer pad before it sent your genius to voicemail. “Hello?” you managed before a yawn ripped its way through you suddenly. “Hey Y/N, I’m sorry it’s so late. I didn't mean to wake you, I figured you’d still be up. You should go back to bed love.” For the first time, you noticed the neon green numbers on the microwave. 12:30. You stifled another yawn and shook your head in an effort to wake yourself further “No way, I just dozed off while watching a movie. I was waiting to talk to you. Besides, I’m up now anyways so you might as well stay on with me for a bit. Did you get any further today?” “Well, JJ had the idea that the partners were originally a typical dominant/submissive partnership but that something in the dynamic must have changed because the MO began to deteriorate. We think the partners must have split up now, because we’re finding similar pieces of the previous MO at separate crime scenes.”.

You processed the information he fed you slowly due to your semiconscious state but eventually you put your words in order well enough to respond. “That should be helpful though yeah? I mean, they’re used to working in a partnership so being suddenly separated from your other half so to speak would throw you off track quite a bit right?”. You could practically hear him smiling through the phone as you drew the conclusions the team had come to only a few hours prior. “Yes. We’re hoping to be able to draw them out and trap them. Play them against each other.”.”Does that mean I can stop sleeping on the couch soon?”. You heard him let out a dejected sigh - you knew he hated that you would force yourself onto the cramped couch when you had a king sized bed a few hundred feet away but he understood.

When he had come home in the early hours of the morning after an abrupt end to a case a few weeks after you had moved into his place, he had caught you curled up on the sofa with a throw pillow stuffed under your head. When he questioned you about it the next morning, you simply answered that the bed felt too big without him and that you couldn’t stand the empty feeling. “Sooner than later I hope my love. Y/N I really wish you wouldn’t do that to yourself. It’s horrible for your body. It can put you at a much higher risk for chronic back and neck pain as well as-”. “Spence. I’m not a giant like you are. I fit on the couch much better than you do, and I barely notice the difference.”. You both cringed, hearing the lie clear in your voice. Still, Spencer must have felt bad because he humored you. “If you're sure. What did you do today my love?”. You smiled sadly hearing in his voice just how desperate he was to escape from his reality and come home to you.

”Well, I straightened the house. In fact, it’s so clean i think we could use it as a sterilization room.”. He let out a soft chuckle and you could hear him begin to relax as you recounted the rest of your day, excluding the part about the microwave dinner. Spencer loved to tell you how many of the ingredients were one step away from processed garbage and you decided to opt out of the lecture for the evening. He had more than enough to worry about without having to focus on your diet while he was away. After a half hour of light conversation, a loud yawn betrayed you as you were excitedly discussing the cute puppy you had met on the way to the market. Spencer immediately requested that you hang up and get some more sleep but you refused. After a few minutes of bickering, you relented on the condition that he would read to you until you had fallen asleep. You curled up under the fluffy blanket as Spencer’s even voice recited the collection of Grimm’s fairy tales quickly lured you to sleep.

You woke up the next morning as sunlight peered through the curtains, stretching your body out to ease the aches from the previous night. You smiled softly as your screen lit up with a text from Spencer wishing you a good morning and an update that they had a solid plan for boxing in the two unsubs that afternoon. “If all goes to plan I should be carrying you to our bed before midnight tonight.”. Your smile widened and you sent back “Can’t wait to truly see you - and love you- tonight. I’ll be waiting.” You plugged your phone into the charger and straightened up from the night before when your phone went off again. The one word message glared at you from the screen and you let out an involuntary giggle. “Tease.”. You hoped it gave him something to look forward to until he was back in your arms. You sent back a simple “XO” before deciding to reread one of your favorite books for a few hours to kill some time. You made yourself a sandwich for lunch and had a few glasses of water as the clock slowly ticked by. You were over halfway through the lengthy novel when you received another message.

“We apprehended both unsubs. Hotch is postponing the paperwork until Monday so we can go straight home. I’ll see you in a few hours baby.”.  You jumped slightly in celebration before finishing your current chapter, marking your place, and all but skipping to the shower to shave and exfoliate your skin. You knew Spencer would still be heavily worked up once he arrived home and luckily, his favorite release included intertwining your bodies as close as possible and loving you sweetly and slowly.

You took your time in the shower careful not to nick yourself with your razor. You scrubbed your scalp with your nails, letting your stress and soreness melt away under the steam. You waited until the water ran cold before turning the knob and stepping out, wrapping yourself in a fluffy towel and blow drying your hair until it layed perfectly even. You applied lotion all over your skin and stepped out of the bathroom to slip on your black silk robe, knowing it wouldn’t be worth it to dress up further. Spencer would be desperate to feel your skin against his and any fabric in his way didn't stand much of a chance.

You made an actual meal for dinner, a pasta dish with chicken that could be easily reheated for Spencer when he grew hungry later in the night. You helped yourself to a serving and after quickly cleaning up the kitchen and storing the leftovers, you retreated to the bedroom to wait for his return.

You were half paying attention to the feed you opted to scroll through on your phone when you heard the door creak open and bags drop to the floor. You set your phone on the bedside table and ran towards the foyer, all but throwing yourself at the exhausted man in front of you. He took a step back from the impact but still enveloped you in his arms and pulled you impossibly tight into his chest. “Hi baby.” you whispered against the scruffy skin of his jawline, peppering kisses up towards his earlobe. He let out a long sigh of relief and picked you up off the hardwood floor, wrapping your thighs around his waist resulting in a high pitched giggle to erupt from your throat. He kissed you then, slowly at first but quickly building more passionate. Your lungs were burning when he finally allowed you to pull away, opting to kiss down your neck to your collarbones and the skin of your chest that was newly exposed as your robe slipped open.

He carefully made his way back to your room, continuing his kisses back up to your shoulder, stopping only to leave marks you knew would only grow darker as time passed. At the very least he was sure to only mark you in places you could cover with little difficulty. “I missed you so much Y/N. The entire ride home all I could think about was you waiting for me in our bed. My gorgeous girl.”. You felt your chest heat up at his words of admiration, wrapping your fingers into his curls and pulling his lips towards your own once more.

You felt him groan against you and moved to quickly unbutton his shirt, slipping it down his arms and tossing it in the general direction of the hamper. He pulled you up with him then, so you were both on your knees, chest to chest as he pulled your robe fully down your back to the swell of your ass where he grasped at you through the slick fabric. You let out a whine and you pulled his belt off, undoing his jeans desperate to continue. He grinned against your neck and pushed you down so you laid flat on your back, completely exposed to him. He kissed at your stomach, making his way down to your inner thighs. He licked a slow wet trail from your pelvic bone to the top of your clit as you whimpered desperately. “Spence, please… I need more”. He humored you, creating slow small circles with his tongue moaning at the taste. You cried out as he created the perfect amount of pressure on your clit, legs threatening to close around his head when he moved to slip one of his fingers easily inside you as the mix of your own wetness and his saliva aided him. He smirked as he felt your thighs flex before using his left hand to throw one of your legs over his shoulders at a time. He pushed a second finger in, curling them up to perfectly reach your g-spot with every thrust. Soon though, you grew impatient with just his fingers. You needed more and you knew just how to get it.

“I want you so bad Spence. I’ve waited for so long and I just can’t anymore. I need to feel you deep inside of me.”. You were positive those words would leave him just as needy as you were and he proved you right when he kicked his pants the rest of the way off and went to line himself up against you. “Wait.”. He stopped immediately, examining your face for any indication of what was wrong. “What’s the matter baby? Are you okay?”. You shook your head and smiled at his concern before switching your positions so his back was resting against the pillows as you straddle his thighs. He smirked at you as he caught on, trailing his hands up the front of your legs to rest at your hips. “You gonna ride me angel?”. You responded with an eager nod and he squeezed your hips, pulling you up further so you were hovering above him. “Sit pretty like my good girl then.”. You whined softly at his words before slowly sinking yourself down around his length, sucking in a harsh breath at the stretch. Even with how wet you were, the adjustment took longer than usual due to the dry spell you were both suffering from as of late.

When you finally felt stretched out enough to move, you slowly ground your hips forward flush against his. He groaned out, lifting you back up so you were almost completely off of him before pulling you back down. You moaned both at the sensation and the idea of being manhandled by the genius below you. You realized what he was asking though, and began bouncing yourself up and down his cock, stopping every few thrusts to grind your clit down on him. You let out soft moans, and after a few more minutes you felt his fingers dig deeper into your hips and his breaths quicken. You knew he was close and as if on cue you started rubbing fast circles against your clit as he spoke again.

“Baby girl I’m getting close. You gonna cum with me angel?” You nodded furiously in response and you felt him start thrusting up to meet you. You panted as you hurried towards the edge of your orgasm, holding on until his thrusts grew sloppier. “You ready to cum with me baby? You gonna cum on my cock?” “Yeah.. gonna cum all over your cock Doc.” You fought to keep the grin off your face when he moaned at the title. He thrusted deep into you twice, before he ordered your release. “I want you to cum now baby. Cum all over my cock.” You felt your orgasm rip through you, electricity shooting through your limbs. Spencer groaned loudly as you tightened around him before pulling you down deep and releasing inside you.

You both fought to catch your breath as you rode out your highs before you found yourself slumping against his chest, suddenly drained from your activities. You felt him chuckle at your drastic change in energy as he wrapped his arms around you again. “I know you just washed the bed sheets and we’re both sweaty but do you think a washcloth will suffice for tonight?”. You nodded against his chest before slowly lifting yourself up and off of him, rolling onto your back on the other side of the bed. Spencer swiftly made his way across the hall, returning to wipe you down gently with the warm fabric. You shivered as the cool air dried your skin, watching him move throughout your room.

He slipped on a fresh pair of boxers before tossing the washcloth in the hamper along with his previously discarded clothes. He hung your robe on the back of your bedroom door then flipped the light switch off before rejoining you in bed to slip under the blankets with you. You immediately curled up into his chest, sighing contently as the sound of his heartbeat filled your ears. You kissed his chest and whispered goodnight, drifting into your first real sleep since before he left.

The next morning you and Spencer went shopping after you successfully convinced him to upgrade to a smart phone with video call abilities. He had begun to shut down the idea as he always had before but after the mere suggestion of what it could do to better your late night hotel room chats he was the one pulling you towards the nearest phone shop. You smiled politely while Spencer took his sweet time weighing the pros and cons of each model, letting your mind drift to the first time it would come in handy. As you finally neared the checkout counter, you took Spencer's hand in your own and gave it a gentle squeeze. After running his card through the machine, the salesgirl gave him the small plastic bag and wished you both a good afternoon.

As you exited the shop, you looked up at him, nudging him to get his attention “What do you think of an app controlled vibrator?”. He stared at you incredulously for a few moments, almost stopping dead in his tracks. After recovering from the initial shock at the vulgarity of your suggestion, he shook his head with a soft smirk and nudged back against you. “Tease.” he called you once more. “That’s the reason you love me right?”. He pulled you into his side, kissing you softly. “One of many Y/N. One of many.”

[script-nef]

Tokyo to France

Category: fluff

1.6k words; Office date [1/6]

Gojou Satoru is many things. The Strongest Jujutsu Sorcerer, an official title which is proven often to be true; humanity's ray of light in the fight against cursed spirits—see the "strongest sorcerer" bit; a teacher at the Tokyo Prefectural Jujutsu Specialty High School even though most, if not all, of the Sorcerers Exclusive don't really approve of him; and a total bother. 

He has an aloof and laid-back aura, indicating he doesn’t really care about much other than his missions and his occupation as a teacher. He’s whimsical and spontaneous, sometimes selfish in the extreme, putting his desires—like his all-too-often snack breaks—first ahead of anything, except for critical situations. And even then he might still not come. Add his total disregard for higher-ups who pretend to see the “bigger picture”, and there’s a lot of reasons why everyone he’s ever met—well, most of everyone since the newest kid Itadori is yet to experience the full "Gojou's shitty antics" ride just yet but it'll come soon, you can tell—are often annoyed by him.

And the one person who experiences this more than anyone is you, who's currently suffering under his relentless chatter after another successful mission. He always does this, like you’re the only person in the world he can talk to (read: bother).

You don't have anything specific against the man, he’s usually a good friend and a welcomed fellow sweets enthusiast, it's just that you're currently behind on your assigned paperwork and he's a great distraction. His tales are often laced with humour and he has a natural knack for storytelling. The fact that Gojou has a nice, soothing voice which beckons for your attention is also a factor. If you didn't have work you'd be fully invested in his recount but as previously discussed, he has shitty antics and one of those is not particularly caring about whether the other person is busy or not. 

He keeps talking and words like “egg tart”, “Shibuya” and “internationally famous” slip through your defence, forcing your brain to block out the lengthy paragraphs on the report and enticing you to listen to him. After a while, you decide that this is getting nowhere. You can’t remember the last couple of paragraphs and Gojou is usually relentless, but you can hear his voice weakening just a bit as you pretend to ignore him. 

Resigning yourself from the work and leaning back onto the chair, you make pseudo-eye contact with him. He seems to brighten up just a bit when you do so, the strength of his voice returning. That makes a ghost of a smile appear on your lips. You'll just have to pull an all-nighter after your dinner with Ken-chan. 

Gojou always has great stories about his trips everywhere, both in Japan and overseas. Having a teleportation skill is incredibly useful, you realise with envy. If only I had his inherited techniques is a thought which pervades your mind often. 

"And I was so close to getting the egg tart but the person in front of me bought the last one! I waited for an hour! For nothing!" The story is topped off with a small pout as he slouches on the chair, chin sitting on the backrest. You laugh, amused at the sudden change of mood. Only he could go from happy and light-hearted to gloomy and dejected in a breath, jokingly or not.

An easy conversation flows between the two of you as you finally disregard your work, chin resting on your palm and eyes crinkling with laughter. 

It’s nice like this. He’s been coming around the office more lately, sometimes armed with sweets and sometimes with an agenda to whisk your time away for his use because he’s bored. It’s mostly fine because a person to talk to is welcomed after a couple of hours by yourself, staring at lit screens until you can feel your eyes die off. You once got a scare because everything had a weird white outline when you finally diverted your eyes from the screen. In a sense, he was keeping your sight safe. He smiled when you said that, replying “Glad I can be of service!” before rattling off another description of a strawberry cheesecake he found in Belgium.

“It must be so nice, being able to teleport places. It takes me so much time just to travel within Japan, honestly such a bother. And I can’t really go overseas either with so many tasks to do with all the cursed spirits running around.” Sighing, you slouch on the desk and bury your face in your arms, missing how Gojou’s lips immediately quirk up.

“I can take you there, you know.” Your head shoots up at that, staring at him with wide eyes. “I can take you anywhere. How about France? We’ll be there in the blink of an eye. We can spend a couple of hours there, eat as many pastries as we want to and just snap right back here. What do you say?” His foot taps on the ground repeatedly, like he’s nervous or agitated. Is he in a hurry or something?

Well, it doesn’t take you long to come to a decision. The offer sounds nice. Really, really nice. 

It’s been a while since you had a break. Not like you can take a long one since cursed spirits are unpredictable in their appearances and need constant attention so that civilian casualties don’t occur. Which means the workflow never stops coming. A trip to pastry country sounds amazing.

“Sure, that sounds good. We need to set up a ti—”

“Gojou-sensei!”

The door slams open, the sound echoing through the hallway and the office. Gojou’s new student, Itadori Yuuji, leans on the door while gasping for breaths. 

“Hey, Yuuji! What’s the rush?” 

“We’re supposed to be training! I was waiting in the room for the past 10 minutes!” A quick glance at the clock indicates 6:40 and you finally notice the sun setting over the mountains. The fading light paints the room in a golden warmth, which makes you wonder why you didn’t notice how fast time was flying. Probably because you were too invested in your conversation with your friend.

Who is now picking himself up from the chair and putting up theatrics by brushing off non-existent dust from his pants. Small giggles escape at his antics. A glance at Itadori tells you he’s close to dying from either dehydration or exhaustion. He must have run all over the campus trying to find Gojou. You wonder why he doesn’t just use his phone. You do live in the fifth technological age and sort of expect a teenager like him to be able to use one.

“Itadori-kun, do you want some water?” Rising out of your seat, you reach for a cup but Gojou’s hand stops it by covering yours. He twists your hand in his and interlaces his fingers with yours.

“No, it’s fine. We’re going to go now. Think about the time and date, okay? Keep in mind the time difference.” He gives the connected hand a slight jiggle as a farewell, skipping out of the room with a bright “Goodnight!” He’s initiating a lot more physical contact recently. Wonder what that’s about.

Itadori watches the scene unfold from the doorway, jaw slack. His eyes follow Gojou but as soon as he’s out of the room, they snap to you. He stares at you so intensely that it looks like his eyes are going to pop out of its sockets pretty soon. You have no idea why he’s staring at you like this and why he’s not following his teacher. It’s like he’s frozen solid in his spot.

Some—read all—of his students sometimes complain about his walking speed, how he purposefully uses his leg length as an advantage and briskly walks on ahead, leaving them in the dust. Some—again, read: all—of your co-workers said the same thing as well. You asked him about it one day and he replied with a great big smile, “I just do it for fun!” He doesn’t do it to you, though. It’s weird because he does it at least once to everyone else you ever met, even your own brother, despite him being only a few centimetres shorter than Gojou. It apparently played a part in his reluctance to partner up with him. Or just generally hang out with him. You wish he’d give Gojou a chance, he’s not that bad once you get to know him. 

Hm, maybe I just don’t have an interesting enough reaction for him. Am I not interesting? Is it a really weird and backhanded way of telling me I’m boring? The train of thoughts takes off, expanding and multiplying until you realise Itadori is still imitating a befuddled statue.

You stare at him. He stares back. He doesn’t break eye contact. This is a really weird thing to think right now but he would absolutely crush everyone at a staring contest. 

“Itadori-kun? Don’t you need to go?” That seems to startle him out of his stupor. 

“Ah, ye—yes! Sorry for interrupting!” Before you can assure him that there was nothing to interrupt, the poor boy stumbles out of the room and also manages to bonk his head on the door and wall no less than twice. Yelps of “I’m okay!” and “Don’t worry!” followed by his running stops you from checking up on him.

“Man, Gojou must really have his hands full taking care of such a clumsy boy. Thank God Fushiguro is a bit more calmer. Now, where and when should we go… Probably should find out the time difference like he said… Oh! Maybe I can invite Shouko and Ken-chan to come along! They need to get out and have a holiday as well. I’m sure Gojou won’t mind if I invite them.”

Masterlist | Next chapter →

[stopeatingwhales]

playing cards x damon albarn

THIS WAS SO MUCH FUN TO WRITE OMG OK. hope you guys enjoy it!!!! I love arrogant damon sorry not sorry <3

Pairing: 1995 damon albarn x reader

Warnings: alcohol use

Word count: 2.339

@damonfuckingalbarn this is 4 u!!!! <3

༉‧₊˚✧

“Have this, you’ll like it far much more than what you’re drinking.”

Diverting my gaze from the beverage encapsulated in my palm, I met my view with the mysterious voice that had beckoned in my direction. “Excuse me?” I said, first landing my glare on his ethereal orbs, spheres that were so magnificent that I had to attempt a double-take; the idiosyncratic shades, merged together to create a masterpiece of different blues, as if they were small fragments of the water from most pure oceans, exemplifying the ideation of eyes that engulf you in at the instant - simply gazing into his orbs was the token I had needed to be entirely enthralled by his presence. Perhaps his gaze was too intense, too enticing, leading me on to trail my stare to admire the more gorgeous head of hair, which looked as if it hadn’t been brushed, though that portrayed its attractiveness. His face was beaming toward my direction, taking me aback slightly as I quickly ditched the sight of his face, drifting my sight to gawk at the two drinks clasped by his hands. “That looks like shit.”

A small scoff escaped his throat, evident that he was not expecting the abrupt attitude that had beckoned upon my lips. Slightly embarrassed at my dramatic remark, I adjusted my posture, accentuating such confidence that I had seemingly demonstrated so diligently with my demeanour. “Just try it.” he replied, placing one of the glasses on the dark wood counter, pushing it towards my direction lightly to prevent it from slipping off the glossy counter. Leaning my torso closer to the counter, I spent a couple seconds examining the contents of the unknown drink, it being something that I had never set my eyes upon.

Placing my original drink on the countertop, I nervously grasped the ambiguous drink that he had offered me, glancing back at him with an unsure expression illustrated on my features. In a way to reassure or encourage me, he nodded his head, resulting in me then taking a small sip to ease myself into the new flavour. Before the liquid had merely touched the back of my throat, I spat the contents back out into the glass. “That’s minging!” I choked, my face scrunching up in disgust. Focused on each move I was making, I felt his eyes continue to gawk at me as I attempted to rid the awful taste that lingered on my tongue by taking a lengthy sip of my pint, swallowing down the contents gleefully. Connecting my stare with his, I once again analysed his features, almost like my mind trying to discover what had been the true ideal that his beauty had enthralled me so rapidly just gaping at him. Perhaps I had over-emphasised his gorgeousness too much, though my doubts were denied as soon as my view had set upon his face once again. He had a smirk carefully illustrated at the side of his lip, curving the top of his cheek slightly, his face sculpted so delicately it urged the want to caress your finger against his skin, it conveying the impression that it was so soft, accentuating the prettiness of his facial features. Something inside me was itching towards the fact that he was somebody I knew, or at least somebody that I had seen somewhere, until it had clocked that he was from television, more specifically Top Of the Pops, last night. "You're that singer from that art school band, aren't you?" I questioned, my vision squinted together as I challenged my active recall abilities. “Damon isn’t it?”

"Wow, you know your music!" he laughed, edging his arm to rest on the counter. The stare orchestrated between us remained, as I left my mind to ponder over the common-knowledge of how men were like in bands. Aware of what he was going to solicit, and knowing that he would think it was going to be extremely easy, I had to prepare myself not to fall for it, no matter how good-looking or tempting the concept engulfed in my brain made it out to be. "Want to go out for dinner tomorrow?"

“No, sorry.” I bluntly replied, breaking the poignant eye contact to down the rest of my drink, slightly forcing the glass containing the beverage he had offered me, back to him. If I had my eyes lingering on his for any longer, I’d end up doing something I’d highly regret the next morning.

“Why not?” he quizzed, bewildered by my sudden response. Clearly he had never had a woman decline his offer before, or was definitely not expecting it after he had gone head to head and won against the second biggest band in the country the night previous. So arrogant.

“Because I don’t want to?” I replied, slightly amused by how perplexed he had gotten. Darting my eyes around the dimly-lit room, my gaze fixated on a booth consisting of boys that, from my vague memory, believed were his band members. Knowing that he was still looking at me, I allowed a smirk to fall on my lips as I thought of what to say next. “I've actually got my eye on that guy over there," I mumbled, pointing towards the familiar booth of boys, my index finger lingering on the tall, lanky boy, whose hair looked as soft as the petals of a newly-bloomed rose. Granting my finger to saunter for a while, it directed enough time for Damon to swivel his head around to see whomever I was speaking about. "Alex, isn't it?"

Switching my focus back to look at him, I noticed his jaw clench at my remark, his orbs dawdling over the three boys who had been engrossed in conversation. Feeling the smirk on my face widen, I relished in the sensation of battering his ego - even if it was just slightly. A small laugh escaped his throat as he locked his gaze with mine, clicking his tongue as he sneered, understanding what I was trying to do to him. It was a forced chuckle, most likely portrayed out of annoyance,  “Look, I just think you’re really pretty, alright?”

Chewing on my bottom lip, I felt my stomach ignite at his frustration towards my obnoxiousness. Butterflies were blooming in my stomach as a certain heat flushed over my cheeks, my body mindful that I couldn’t keep up with such a persona for a much longer time. As well as this, it would potentially drive him away, which at this rate I didn’t want him to do, so I thought of the best possible solution to bring his hopes up, reaching to the ground underneath the barstool to grasp my bag, taking out a deck of cards. “Let’s play snap.” I exclaimed, beginning to shuffle the card deck.

“And you just carry those around do you?”

“It’s fun to play.” I replied, splitting the deck and then sliding him his share.

“Can I just get you a drink?” He groaned, though a small smile had perched on his lips at the irregularity of the situation. A girl is asking him to play cards after she simply rejected him, at a bar.

“You already did, Damon, and it was shit.” I spat back, fixing my eyes on his once again. He looked slightly offended at the insolence I demonstrated towards his efforts, which, for some reason, sank my heart a little. “If you win this game, I'll give you a second chance.”

“Deal,” He beamed, the signature devilish grin of his painted on his lips once again. “Might as well get you that drink now.” he added, his arrogance seeping through his teeth.

As we began placing our cards in the middle of the table, one after another, the environment was tense as to when two cards of the same origin would land upon each other. It was funny, I had gone out tonight to blow off steam from the stresses that work had offered me the past week, and somehow I had landed myself playing a game of cards with undoubtedly the most famous musician in Britain at the moment. “I’m not falling for it, you know.” I said, avoiding his gaze.

"Then why are you doing playing cards with me, love?" he interrogated, the sneer on his lips evident by his lustrous tone. He was right; his obvious pretentiousness, and egocentrism only edged me towards loving his company just that much more, which had disgracefully increased my attraction to him, but of course I wasn’t going to admit that, hell, I was adamant that I wasn’t going to fall for it, even though that was exactly what I had been doing this entire time - sinking down a hole of allurement from his persona that panned something inside of me that I wasn’t able to pinpoint on. Pop star effect, I suppose.

Completely silenced by his comment, I felt a certain radiance tease it’s way to my cheeks once again, edging me into humiliation even more to the fact that he could tell the effect his words were having on me - the sly grin on his features was felt in the tension shared between us. In an endeavour to shy away my embarrassment, I dragged out my packet of Marlboro cigarettes, snatching one from its packaging and lighting it before placing another card down on the deck that had been piling up since we had started. Inhaling sharply, I allowed the cancerous smoke to escape my lungs, my body adorning the relaxed feeling that seeped through after. “Can I have one?”

“No.”

“Why not? Your pack’s full!”

Pausing my movements before taking another hit from the roll of tobacco, a smirk lingered on my lips as I let my head rest on my palm, keeping my body upright. "Why? Those songs of yours not selling much?" I mocked, blowing another whiff of smoke into his face, the stunned expression held on his face only exhilarating me more in what felt like... control, though from the way he had been acting, I knew that such power was not going to last for a long while. "Put a card down, for goodness sake."

Scoffing, he followed my demand, though the card he placed down was the exact same as the one I placed down before, ensuing his hand slamming suddenly on top of the card deck, my mouth agape as I realised that he had won. “Look who won!”

A beam covered my face as I shook my head, watching him grab the attention of the bartender, asking for another drink that once again, I hadn’t heard of before. Once the bartender was done preparing the beverage, Damon passed it over to me, another grin captured on his expression. Sighing, I discarded the remains of my cigarette before taking a sip of another, unknown drink, the feeling of déjà vu hitting me as I had enraptured myself in the same situation when we had first spoken. "For fucks sake Damon, this tastes worse than the last one."

"More for me then, isn't it?" he grinned, my mind now aware that he had simply ordered such an appalling drink to agitate me. Be that as it may, he was aggravating, and took delight into making one’s time horribly spent, there was something about him that kept me latched onto him. Perhaps it was his glowing features, which were so enticing that it blinded me into thinking that he was the only other person in the room, and the only other person that I could set any fragment of attention towards.

"Stop pissing me off, you twat." I mumbled, looking at my bag as I placed the card deck back inside, it not proving much use to the situation anymore.

"You could quite easily just walk away, if I’m pissing you off this much.” he said, his head tilted to the side as his eyes lingered on me, practically forcing me to connect our gazes once again. “Doors just there, love." he uttered, beckoning his hand towards the timber door that divided us between the streets.

"Why would I leave when I'm getting free drinks?" I asked, trying to maintain whatever control I had over the situation, which had been deemed to have slipped out of my grasp at this given moment. The tension between us had been alleviating faster than it had been before, as we began reaching the climax of the encounter.

"You're not liking them though, are you?" he replied, face beginning to draw dangerously close to mine, his eyes flicking from my eyes to my lips every couple of seconds, contemplating how to end the situation. It was fully in control with him now; I was merely wrapped around his measly little finger, and he knew it. Our noses grazed ever-so-slightly on one another's as I felt his breath fan onto my cheeks - all I had craved for at this point was to attach my lips onto his, my breathing quickening as the realisation of just how close our bodies were to one another. "Just admit it, you're loving this." he mumbled.

"Am not." I whispered, my eyes staring at his lips as shuffled closer and closer to mine. We were both aware that what I had said was a lie, but my stubbornness wasn't ready to let that slide yet. Just as I thought we were going to connect lips, he darted his head away rapidly, the movement so swift I hadn't come to realize until a couple seconds afterwards, my cheeks now reddened to the point that I was almost convinced I had a fever.

"You fell for it, lovely." he grinned, placing a white slip on my lap, decorated with numbers to which I assumed were in relation to his telephone number. "Let me know when you're free!" he exclaimed, before waltzing off to the booth where his friends had, leaving me completely stunned, and exactly where I knew would be - absolutely encapsulated by the man known as Damon Albarn.

[another-snape-story]

Firewhiskey

Chapter XVII

“Alcohol is not a solution,” Snape reminded you as you both entered his office.

“I know,” you sighed, placing a large bottle on his desk. “I’m just so tired, Severus…” You took your regular place in the armchair, where a wool plaid blanket was folded a little sloppily – the way you left it here the last time. So he didn’t even bother putting it away anymore? Although Snape just lit the fireplace and its heat didn’t yet reach you, you felt so warm like never before.

“Yes. You are,” he agreed, focused on uncorking the bottle. “Why would you have firewhiskey in your possession?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled apologetically. “Bought it the day you refused to go to Hogsmeade with us.”

“Is it a vivid example why I should’ve agreed?” he smirked now pouring the spirit into two glasses and you laughed.

There hardly was a place in the whole world which offered you this kind of comfort and consolation, but this cold room with the dark figure of a man smoothly pacing around. Wrapped yourself into the blanket, you relaxed in the softness of the cushions.

“Quidditch Through the Ages,” you leisurely read the title as you noticed the book on a side table. “So now everything comes together!”

“What exactly?” Snape handed you the glass and sat across from you.

“You were to be heard in the Entrance Hall,” you giggled. “Why did you take it from Potter?”

“Well, I wasn’t in a mood,” he said apathetically, wobbling his glass and watching the liquid rotating inside. You couldn’t discern if he was joking or not – it was so likely of him to consider it a fair reason to do so – anyway, his answer amused you, same as his serious look.

“Have you ever been?” you teased, and he answered with a displeased curve of his lips.

“So?” Snape leaned a little forward.

“I’m drinking for you,” you declared, not a trace of your former gaiety remained. “I’m so happy I met you, Severus. You can’t even imagine…”

“Slow down,” he smiled softly. “Too early for confessions.”

“You know I mean it!” you insisted. “I’m telling it before I take the first sip, and I will tell it after taking the last!”

“I know,” his voice so quiet yet so deep. “And you do know I feel the same, don’t you?” The words being extremely alien to Snape’s enclosed character, the words he never dared to say aloud, struggled their way out. He’d prefer to keep them to himself, but he couldn’t leave your sudden ingenuous impulse without an answer.

Your heart skipped a beat each time he acknowledged his reciprocity towards you, although he never said it directly. You nodded, blissful to be ascertained of his fellow feeling again, and reached out for the man.

Mild sonorous clinking broke the silence once your glasses struck against each other.

“How did you get here?” you asked randomly, intending to divert depressive thoughts by some neutral topic, but Snape – unlike what you’ve expected – now looked gloomier than before.

“Dumbledore offered me a job,” he answered with a sigh after emptying his glass.

“Is that what you wanted to be at the age of…”

“Twenty-one,” he finished, filling his glass anew. You tossed yours closer to him to be refreshed with a drink. “All I wanted at the age of twenty-one was being dead.”

“Not much has changed since then, huh?” you smiled sympathetically, and he snickered. Yet again you managed to liven him up.

Another shot followed. Having no crumb in your stomach since lunch, you felt alcohol quickly take over your body, spreading fatigue through your limbs, while your mind still strained to preserve the clarity of thought.

“Did you know each other before?”

“I was studying here. So, apparently, we did.”

“You should’ve really loved it here to return inside the walls of your alma mater?” Recalling your time at school you dreaded the thought of stepping on its threshold ever again.

Snape lowered his head, peering at the brownish fluid in his hand. “It��s complicated.”

“Yeah. I’ve guessed there’s a mystery behind all this.” You felt so terribly sorry for him all at once. There clearly was something he couldn’t tell you, but he did his best to be as honest with you as the circumstances allowed, or his obligations, or whatever else it might be. What the hell it might be?! The thing gave him no peace, torturing his heart, it was evident – judging by his rare bitter remarks; and you felt so helpless not knowing how to ease his mental torments. “Don’t worry, mysterious Professor Snape,” you reassured him in barely a whisper. “I won’t ask questions.”

“I wish I could tell you...” he hopelessly shook his head, afraid you might turn away from him sooner or later – no one would tolerate reticence for long.

“We don’t have that much firewhiskey, do we?” you smiled kindly slowly draining your glass.

“You should be prepared better for the next time,” thankful for your patience and understanding, he gave a short, half-suppressed snigger, and you laughed loving the idea.

“Oh, I will! You know me!”

“I don’t even doubt that!”

“Wanna know what I wanted to be after school?” guilt-driven for involuntary making him feel uncomfortable, you changed the subject, hoping to put some spirit into the man, yet your glance gained a spacey glint. “Hats designer!”

“Hats designer?” Snape chuckled, a slight haze enveloping his head.

“Yep. But somehow ended up being a scientist.”

“What a loss for the fashion world,” he said deliberately unimpressed, but a sly narrow of his eyes betrayed he was ribbing you.  

“Heey, don’t you dare question my artistic talents!”

“Or what?” he provoked you further.

“Or I’ll tell Minerva you assumed no one would notice if she replaced the hat she usually wears with an old Hagrid’s shoe!”

“You can’t blackmail me with a commonly known fact,” he replied in a bored tone, which made you burst into laughter.

“Aw, Snape, you’re such a bastard!”

“I’ll take it as a compliment,” with a smug grin, he raised his glass and polished it off.

Snape rested beside you. All of his troubles seemed to step aside when you came around. He wasn’t expecting any kind of cunning, deceitful tricks from your side and could fully relax in the solace your presence comprised. Alcohol helped him loosen up even more, but he still had things under control. You, on the other hand, let frivolity take the lead.

“I was young and naive,” you tilted your head on the backrest, reflecting on a girl you used to be. “Ah, where are those days?”

“You’re still very young,” Snape smiled softly, admiring your features, which he found so alluringly attractive. But it wasn’t appearance that captivated him – something much deeper than physical perception forcefully drew him to you.

“It’s not the point,” you sighed. “Our bodies are aging, but we never actually grow old.” You gulped the rest of firewhiskey left in your glass and looked closely on its empty bottom. “Somewhere deep inside there sticks a child inside each of us. A child with a flaming hope, still believing all of the most fantastic dreams will jolly well come true... Add me some?” you stretched out your hand to receive a new portion of drink.

Snape unhurriedly provided you with another shot.

“Do you regret becoming what you are?” he let the question slip off his tongue.

“And you?” you gave him a pitiful glance, already knowing what he would say.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“But it’s not too late for changes, is it?” you asked uncertainly, mainly, not to cheer him up – which, nevertheless, was also your intention – but hoping he would agree, so that you too could regain confidence there still was a chance, but Snape silently finished his glass instead.

“The Dark Lord might return any time soon. This is currently my main concern.”

“You’re right. Forgive me, I’m just saying whatever comes to my mind,” you smiled weakly. “My tongue works faster than my brain.” The setting of the room started slowly swaying around, causing a sick feeling in your stomach. You seemed to run out of the last bits of energy – another few minutes, and you’d find yourself balancing on the edge of oblivion.

“Do not apologize,” Snape leaned forward, took the glass out of your hand and put it aside. “What is it you were dreaming of? Will you be willing to tell me?” he asked quietly, his voice so pleasant to your ears.

“I’m dreaming of a small house on the mountain side,” you closed your eyes, “surrounded by a forest…”

“And a lake somewhere nearby,” Snape continued pensively, “its waters clear as crystal…”

“Yes. There will be flowers everywhere…”

“Grown all by yourself?” he smiled, taking in your every breath.

“I have seeds of some rare species,” you agreed serenely.

Each word you said found response in Snape’s heart. For a moment he seemed to be carried away – far from his cruel reality – right in the middle of your little paradise.

“We’ll set off for lengthy strolls along nature paths early in the morning with a basket of sandwiches,” you mumbled sleepily, “to gather herbs and berries…”

“…and return home right before the sun falls…” he whispered, “…tired, but so happy…” Snape’s words faded into silence, as he watched you drift off in a peaceful slumber, leaving him with a feeling of a vague regretful longing.

<<< Previous Chapter • Next Chapter >>>

Tag: @diaryofafan17 @yul-is-sparkling @fullmoonshadowwrites @forthehonourof @amywright @redrehab @space-helen @fluffymadamina nadiigh @theworldisugly-22 @lukaerith-morningstar @sighsinkhuzdul @67-chevy-baby @rustypotatospork @aquila-leo @dandyrua @majusketch @sevyythebeanqueen @writingmi @s00nhi @pinkininja @shizuethedragon @chocolattefrog awkwardaxelotl @bionic-otp @samnblack @sailorstupidsblog @purpledragonturtles @xwaterproofx @lokistann @psycho-howell @planetmystery @lovelyravenkite @taschaschwarz @grimrapper11 @xpissbabyx @lullabylike

[mostly-marvel-musings]

A Mere Mortal - Chapter Three

A/N: This story is based on the prompt : Vampires cannot enter a house without your permission, but what if your landlord’s a vampire? It’s his house, he’s just letting you live there. Part of the Landlord Vampire Fic Frenzy hosted by the amazing @just-the-hiddles . I’m super nervous about this one, so feedback’s most welcome!

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire! Bucky Barnes x Vampire! Loki x Human! Reader

Word count: 2570. Yep. This one’s a bit lengthy!

Warnings: 18+ stuff. Some smut!! Foul language. Vampire Diaries reference?

Tags: @buckybarnesplumwhore @ladyacrasia @tcc-gizmachine @alexakeyloveloki

Taglists open! Send me an ask if you wish to be tagged!

...

“What did you say?” your mouth hung open and eyes went wide as Bucky uttered those words.

He chuckled looking at your stunned expression and said, “You heard me. The town’s history is rich with legends and myths of vampires and ghouls. I’m sure you could find tons of books about them in the library.”

“That is fantastic! Oh my God I knew I chose this town for a reason!” you were practically giddy with excitement.

“You keep surprising me (Y/N). A normal reaction to this would either be a person packing up his things and getting the fuck outta here or laughing in my face.” He said as you both walked out of the store.

You rolled your eyes and repeated your previous statement, “And I’ll keep breaking the stereotypes Mr Barnes. I don’t usually fit into the ‘normal’ box. And it’s a good thing.”

It sure is, he thought gazing at your form in the street light. The warm glow of the sodium vapor lamps made your face appear warm and alluring. The cold air made your breath visible, creating wonderful patterns against the night sky. Your scent intoxicated his mind and he couldn’t simply say goodbye to you just yet.

“Let me walk you home doll, wouldn’t want you getting attacked by vampires on your first week here.” he said placing a hand on the small of your back as you both turned towards Chapel Street.

“I could kick his ass, I can kick box pretty well you know. Not outrun him though, if he’s anything like the ones in Vampire Diaries. You know where they go whoosh from one place to another in a second? Have you seen it?” you asked making an attempt to gesture the fast running from the show.

He doesn’t seem like a guy who would watch the teen shows with way too many hot vampire and hybrid guys. Why did you even ask that? You seemed to lose your ability to carry on a decent conversation with this guy. That was a first.

“Never mind. So gimme more information on the legends. I’ll pester Frank tomorrow at the library but nothing like stories heard from local peeps right?” you teased hoping he’d forget you had asked a stupid question initially.

“I’ve grown up listening to these stories from my grandma, my mom, just everybody. Though their versions vary slightly.

The one that’s stuck around for centuries is about Lucas and Morwenna Klyn.” Bucky looked at you, he had lowered his voice slightly and his hand hadn’t left its place from your back.

You were trying to adjust the weight of the shopping bags in your hands, but hearing those names you looked up and couldn’t help snort a laugh.

“They sure sound like names straight out of a horror book. Go on.”

“Morwenna was said to have migrated here from somewhere near Ireland about 200 years ago and had found this town most to her liking. She was this evil vampire who had witchy abilities-

“Like a hybrid? That’s one thing missing from the Vampire Diaries, they’ve got werewolf vampires but not witchy vampires. Oh but there’s that original witch Esther.”

It was like your mouth was out of control. Rambling absolute nonsense when this very hot guy was eager to tell you stories about his hometown.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t know why said that. I’m just a little crazy about all of this. I’ll keep my mouth shut now I promise.” You said physically putting a finger on your lips, adjusting the two bags in your left hand.

“I’ll forgive you this time.” He narrowed his impossibly gorgeous eyes seriously but the smile playing on his lips.

“So Morwenna had all sorts of powers, she was said to have the ability to control people’s minds, make them do her bidding. She met Lucas here in Dewsbury and he fell madly in love. Typical. Morwenna was beautiful, anybody would fall in love with her. She had a way with words too.

One day Lucas found her feeding on his younger sister Evelyn in these very woods. Her fangs dug deep in his sister’s neck, sucking the life out of her, Lucas watched in horror as Evelyn turned paler and paler in front of his eyes. He ran to stop her but was too late. Evelyn dropped to the ground like a piece of rock, her lifeless eyes still staring at Lucas even though there wasn’t any life in them anymore. Morwenna wiped the blood off her chin and approached Lucas, hunger still visible in her jet black eyes. She bared her fangs and Lucas made a run for his life.

Little did he know that she loved chasing her prey. Making them run for their lives, like feeble little lambs made her feel like a true hunter. She fed on him but didn’t kill him. Instead she turned him into a vampire. Evelyn’s ghost is said to haunt these woods till date. And here we are.” Bucky came to a stop abruptly.

“Whoa. You can’t leave me on this horrific info. I wanna know the rest.” You didn’t realize you reached your house so soon. You wanted to invite him in but he interrupted your thoughts.

“We’ll continue later. I’ve already taken up a lot of your time. You need rest (Y/N). Meet me for drinks at the pub tomorrow?” Bucky stuffed his hands back in his pockets and looked at you expectantly.

“Done. If you don’t show up at the pub on time, I’ll show up at your house and irritate the fuck out of you until you complete the story.” you threatened jokingly but you were very capable of doing that. Though you didn’t exactly know where he lived, you could figure it out sure.

He laughed out loud and the sound made your stomach do somersaults.

Even his laugh is fucking perfect.

“Relax I’ll be there. Goodnight (Y/N).”

He went for a handshake but you went for a side hug, you met somewhere awkwardly in between.

“Goodnight Bucky. Thanks for walking me home.”

“Even though you can kick box.” Bucky teased, making you chuckle.

He turned and started walking into the woods. You stared at his back for a good two minutes fighting the urge to say something but failed.

“Don’t let Evelyn haunt you in there.”

“Don’t worry I can kick box too.” He turned as he replied and shot you a wink.

You watched him until he disappeared into the night and turned to walk inside your house.

Setting the bags on your beige granite countertop, you looked out the kitchen window that overlooked the woods. They sure looked creepy, you were busy thinking about your extremely charming landlord though.

Smiling like an idiot, you were interrupted by a much too loud growl emitted from your belly.

“Shit! Dinner.”

…

You peeked open one eye to check the time, it read 6:01 am. You had woken up way too early. Maybe you could sleep in for a few more hours, but then you couldn’t once you were fully awake. Perils of being a light sleeper. Sprucing up the place seemed like a good idea, anyways there were a lot of boxes yet to be unpacked, especially your writing material.

What was the main reason for moving here? Writing!

And you were yet to set up your writer’s desk which you were very particular about. And couldn’t just have one writing spot. Inspiration struck at the most random places and situations and you had gotten pretty good at being prepared for that. It always helped to have a great view outside the window. Something about staring off into the distance made your brain come up with a thousand ideas.

The cabin bedroom was a large space, enough to set up a decent writing space. There was a ledge that ran along the bedroom window which was wide enough for you to sit and the bed was attached to it and it had the most gorgeous view of the woods; that would work too.

So you got to work after taking a shower and whipping up a quick breakfast for yourself.

A progress update meeting about your new book was in two months, which seemed like a long time but really you’d be needing all the time you could get to whip out another best seller. Which meant you needed to start writing as soon as possible.

After setting up the ‘work space’ you opened your computer, grabbed your glasses and stared at the blank word document for a few minutes.

Time to block out all the X rated thoughts about your super hot landlord (Y/N). Let’s get some work done, a draft, a outline structure, something. You can do this.

...

The concept of time soon lost on you once you began. It was going well, the ideas were flowing and you were typing them out at lightening speed.

A ding from your phone that lit up next to your laptop startled you out of your zone. It was a text from Bucky.

I’ll see you at the pub in fifteen? - James B

Had you really been writing for that long? Apparently you completely forgot about lunch. And now there wasn’t enough time.

Hurriedly you texted back a reply and got dressed. Drinks on an empty stomach never ended well in your case, you wished you had set an alarm or something.

...

You walked in the dimly lit pub and instantly the smell of booze and bar snacks filled your nostrils. You heard your name being called out from the far end and turned to see Bucky waving you over to a corner booth.

A warm smile on his face as you walked closer and you noticed he was wearing a leather jacket over a dark shirt, looking handsome as ever. He stood up to greet you in a hug.

“You look beautiful.” He said as you took off your jacket and sat opposite him on the semi circled sofa. This place looked like it belonged in the 80s. It probably did.

“Thanks you too.” your cheeks reddened further at your embarrassing response and the initial compliment, you closed your eyes and looked down. Fucking nerves.

Luckily he saved you by not dwelling on it further and asked what you’d have to drink.

“I’ll have the local beer please.”

Eyebrows raised in surprise as he probably saw you as a wine girl. You just shrugged at this point.

“Breaking stereotypes. Got it.” He replied nodding his head with a wide grin as he placed the order.

The conversation flowed as easily as the drinks and soon you had that much too familiar buzz. You were in the middle of explaining a funny incident that happened with you and Sam, giggling way too much when you were interrupted.

“Well if its not the famous (Y/N).” the smooth accented voice reached your ears as you slowly turned to see Loki standing near your booth grinning down at the pair of you.

“Famous? Am I famous?” you grinned back, the edge clearly off at this point. Loki had creeped you out in your meeting.

You missed the slight disappointment on Bucky’s face as you invited Loki to join you guys. Of course he covered it up and slid over to sit next to you, protectively close as Loki sat opposite you.

“So (Y/N), are you enjoying our little town?” Loki put both his hands on the table and leaned over to speak.

“I really am. People are so nice here, I’m not used to that. And Dewsbury has the most fascinating history!”

“So you know about the vampires?” Loki smirked as he glanced at Bucky who was shooting him a warning look.

“Oh yeah in fact, Bucky never got to finish the story last night because it was too late. I’m here to know the whole truth and nothing but the truth.” you said a bit too dramatically.

Damn this stuff was strong.

The men entertained you with stories of their own for the rest of the night and asked you about your life. You felt quite safe and were enjoying the little flirty banter going on between the three of you. You definitely had one too many pints.

You stood up to leave and instantly the room spun before your eyes. Loki’s hands landed on your shoulders to keep you steady.

“You alright there darling?” he asked, gazing into your eyes. You placed your hands over his as you nodded slowly and giggled.

Suddenly you felt Bucky slide a protective arm around your waist and pull you to his side, earning an eye roll from Loki.

“I got her. Let’s get you home (Y/N).” He said as he walked you both out of the pub, leaving Loki behind.

“I didn’t take you for a light weight doll.” Bucky looked at you as you had your arms around him to keep you steady.

“I’m really not. I just, I skipped lunch today.” you kept your eyes on the road as you approached your cabin much quicker than you realized.

“I just got into writing and lost track of time, not because I skip meals. I love to eat!” you clarified with another small giggle, as you both came to a halt in front of the house.

“Don’t sleep on an empty stomach (Y/N). I hope you have some food at home. If not we can go somewhere-

“No need Sir, I have some leftovers in the fridge. Thank you for walking me home. Again. You’re the best.” you leaned over and pressed a kiss to his cheek and lingered a bit.

He reached out and tucked a strand of hair behind you ears and glanced at your lips. He really wanted to kiss you, know what you tasted like. Know how your body felt against his. Though now wasn’t the time, it would be taking advantage.

He said goodbye and watched you get in before turning back and walking home. At least you were safe.

...

Your body was on fire. Every touch every kiss made your head spin. He was leaving a trail of hot kisses down your jaw and neck before reaching the spot that made you moan loudly as he sucked hard.

You rolled over and straddled his hips placing your hands over his toned chest. You leaned down to kiss him and he sighed opening his mouth to allow your tongue to explore it further. The fight for dominance continued as his hands tugged your hair. You slid your own in his raven black hair.

You rolled your hips against his clothed erection earning another grunt from him. You were placing wet kisses down his torso almost reaching the waistband of his underwear when he grabbed you and spoke in that deep honey dripping voice,

“We have plenty of time for that later darling. Allow me to taste you first.” Your eyes flew open as you stared at Loki’s lust filled face.

Your skin was on fire still as you jolted awake. Your arousal evident between your legs as you sat up. Grabbing a bottle of water from the ledge you took a big swig and walked into the bathroom.

Loki smirked as he noticed your flustered state through your bedroom window, before he turned and vanished into the night.

...

[hardyimagines]

Brace’s Niece — Part 1

Your mother passes away and you have nowhere to go except for to your Uncle Brace. James Delaney doesn’t want you living in his home unless you’re going to help out with chores and whatnot. Things heat up between you and James ( inevitably ) and you keep it a secret from your Uncle. — Requested

———————————————————————

October 15

The large windows were murky, foggy from the relentless rain that seemed to have poured every day that week. The pane was cracked, stained, and unfixable, but it was still a nice place for James to look out and inspect the surrounding city. He rolled the egg, he cradled, around lazily in his palm, savoring the momentary halt of the rainfall. Squinting out at the city, he pursed his lips before looking over his shoulder toward the clutter on the table. He was waiting for Brace to wake up to tend to the mess that the man had left the previous night. Brace had taken up drinking within the last week — drowning himself in liquor and he’d been a lot more quiet than usual. James could tell there was obviously a weight residing on the man’s shoulders, but what that weight was — he didn’t know. With that thought in mind, he made his way toward the table with an evident frown and slowly began to clean up the mess. It was Brace’s job to keep things tidy, but because of their long-term relationship, he supposed it was his job to look out for the man as well. He pushed the egg in his hand passed his lips, devouring it easily before he dusted his hands off on his trousers and reached for the cups. Pinching the rim of the alcohol-smudged glasses, he lifted them from the table and carried them to the sink. Cutting on the hot water, he watched as the filth was rinsed from the dish. His blue eyes remained locked on the cup, unmoving from it as he momentarily lost himself in his thoughts.

“Don’t have to clean up after me, boy.” Brace’s voice cut in suddenly, drawing James out of his momentary trance. The older man shakily lifted the opened bottle of whisky on the table before reaching for the cap so he could seal the basically-empty bottle closed. He let out a grumble of dissatisfaction before taking the bottle to the cupboard and tucking it away.

James shifted in his position at the sink before turning off the water and turning to face the man in the corner. “Brace, are you..” He pondered how to ask the question.

“Just fine.” Brace cut in before moving across the kitchen in order to finish up with cleaning out the dishes used. The table was covered in the sticky liquid, spilled from when the man had accidentally knocked over the bottle when he’d drunkenly lifted himself up from the table and made his way off to bed, so he pinched a rag and wet it beneath the faucet before making his way toward the tabletop so he could scrub it.

James didn’t find it necessary to pry. If Brace didn’t want to share what was bothering him.. then he wouldn’t push him to. Folding his arms over his chest, he leaned against it before parting his lips in order to speak again. He could change the topic to a variety of things, so he figured he’d fill the man in on business.

The sound of a harsh knock on the front door silenced James though. His head tipped, craning so that it rotated toward the sound of someone incessantly hammering their fist against the wood. There was no pause or hesitation, just a repetitive, agitating sound. Brace moved around the table with a quiet ‘I’ll get it’, before vanishing from the room. He hobbled, hurrying along the wood floor until he reached the door. His wrinkled fingers wrapped around the squeaky handle. Rotating it, he hauled the wood open and the second he did, it felt like someone had punched him in the stomach, sucking all the much-needed oxygen from his lungs. He knew instantly why you were there.

You were stood on the porch with sticky cheeks and red-rimmed eyes. Your body shivered as the cold wind whipped around you, blowing your hair in one direction before it blew into your face. You let out a quiet huff before shoving the strands away from your eyes and stepping forward. Your uncle was stood with his hand on the door, lower lip quivering as he inspected your frail-looking form.

This had been expected. There was no surprise in either of your gazes, no confusion, or curiosity. Brace opened his arms, urging for you to pile into them. You did so hurriedly. Burying yourself in his embrace, you clutched on to him tightly, fingertips curling in the fabric of his shirt. He stunk of whisky and cigars, but it didn’t bother you. It was just a bit strong. Brace held you for a few moments, staring at the floor while he racked his brain for something to say. Nothing came to him.

His sister, your mother, had died. She’d been ill for quite some time and recently that sickness had just gotten worse and worse. It was incurable. And her death was inevitable. Brace had gone around to visit her, but he was the last person she wanted to see. Family drama had led to a dent in their relationship and they hadn’t been talking much before she fell bed-ridden. He drank to fill the void that losing his sister had created. He’d lost her before she’d lost her life and now — now he had a mourning niece to look after. You didn’t have anywhere else to go. There was nobody else alive in the family. You hadn’t had a job because you’d been taking care of your mother. Brace understood completely why you’d come to him and he had no intentions of turning you away.

“What’s this?” A new voice hit your ears. It was deep, harsh, drenched in a threatening tone more than an inquiring one.

Brace released you so that he could twist around to inspect the man. His fingers lifted to his stubble, scratching it shyly before he moved forward and toward James, leaving you in the opened doorway.

The man, James, who stood a few feet away, was tall — much taller than you. He had facial hair, trimmed, neat. It made him look older than he probably was. You could tell by his soft looking skin and sturdy, strong stance that he was only in his late thirties or early forties. Brushing your fingertips along your stomach absentmindedly, you smoothed down your dress as your eyes continued to rake along his form. He was dressed in a pair of dark trousers and a blue shirt that he had tucked away in the hem of his slacks. His hair was the messiest thing about him, sticking up this way and that. You figured it was probably the result of hat hair.

“James..” Your uncle began to speak. “This is my niece, Y/n. Shes uh...” He didn’t find it necessary to mention the death of your mother. It would only cast an even sadder, gloomier atmosphere.

“I didn’t ask who. I asked what. What is she doing here, Brace?” It was very untimely — your presence. James was under a lot of stress. He had so much work to do. Unwanted guests were not welcome in his home, especially not ones stood in his doorway with fluttering lashes and sweet smiles. This was no place for you to be hanging about.

“She’s just lost her mother.” Brace said firmly. He didn’t want to give his voice the chance to crack or struggle, so he spoke bluntly. “My sister. She had an illness.”

“She died this morning.” You chimed in. “I’m here because I have no other place to go.. I’ve come to see Brace, and unfortunately for you, that means I’ve had to come to your home.” Your eyes latched on to the icy blue ones that threw daggers your way. You didn’t know a thing about James Delaney. You didn’t go out much or hear the stories everyone spread. Brace rarely ever talked to you about anything apart from your mother so.. there you stood, with a brave face and an even braver stance. You felt the urge to cry. Being strong in a time of need was difficult. Facing a man — defending your presence.. it was far from what you needed to be doing right now. Mourning was all you should’ve been doing. It was hard to cry though, you’d been crying for the last few weeks — you’d been crying all day long. It felt like there were no more salty teardrops left to escape your tear ducts.

“Sorry to hear that.” James was blunt. Crass. There was no sincerity in his tone — no tint of an apologetic man. “But. This is no place for a girl such as yourself, so,” He moved to the vanity in the corner. Opening one of the drawers, he pinched an envelope, one full of money in case of emergency’s and handed it over to Brace. The thin slip of paper was pinched by the man, briefly considered before James spoke again. “shut the door on your way out.” The hollow thudding from his boots signaled his retreating footsteps.

Brace twisted around. Gripping your hand gently, he drew you into the house’s momentary chill before nudging the door shut with his boot. “You can go in the sitting room, sit by the fire and warm up. I’m going to go talk to him.” He released your hand reluctantly before turning on his heel to set off in search of the bastard. You made movement to stop him, to explain that you could leave because you didn’t want to be a hassle.. but instead, you made your way through the doorway to your left and into the warm room. Two sofas sat parallel to one another with a coffee table perched in the center. The fire lit majority of the room, orange hue falling on the length of anything in its path. You shivered deliciously before making your way toward the glowing heat.

Brace made his way down the lengthy corridor and into the back of the creaky old house. Pushing the ajar door open fully without so much as a knock, the man stood in the doorway with gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. “I can’t turn her away.” He started without even alerting James of his presence. “I’m the only family she’s got left.”

James’ back was to the door. His hands were laid flat against the widespread sheet of paper he had displayed on the desk. He barely turned his head to the side, ear directed toward Brace — the only sign that James was even listening.

You shifted in front of the fire. Your cold hands pressed against the damp fabric of your dress. The end of the material was soaked from where it had dragged through the puddles of water. It wasn’t ruined.. but it was certainly filthy. A thorough wash was sure to do the trick though. Your hands curled even tighter in your dress, fisting in it as you ogled the flame before you. If you didn’t think about something apart from your mother, you’d drown in the sadness that swam within you. It felt like you’d caught your own sickness. People suffered from heartbreak, didn’t they? Heartbreak could kill. You’d just lost your best friend.

The muffled voices from down the hall grew louder, but no clearer. It was impossible to distinguish what was being said, but maybe you weren’t trying hard enough. Did you really want to hear the man, with the intimidating aura, tell your uncle that you weren’t welcome to stay in his home? Your lips pursed. You supposed you could live without eavesdropping on their conversation. Instead, you let your eyes fall away from the fire to instead inspect the carvings on the coffee table. They were etched into the wood by something sharp, but it wasn’t meant to be there — it looked like something someone had done after purchasing the thing. Maybe James Delaney had a habit of picking at wood. The furniture was ruined on the corners, picked and pried at.

“Just for the month.” Brace’s voice was very clear. “She can help me around the house, at least until she finds a more suitable job. I promise she won’t be any trouble.” Your eyes fluttered shut, nerves swimming in your belly.

“Alright.” The other voice was harsh. It was evident James was only agreeing so he could shut Brace up. The voice made your hairs stand on end. “But if she gets in my way, just once, she’s out of here.”

A loud slam pulled your focus to the hall. Craning your neck around in order to inspect who the heavy footsteps belonged to, you squinted in the slightest — as if that would help you figure out who loomed by the door. His shadow danced across the doorframe, a dark figure, impossibly void of any detail. You swallowed thickly before mustering up the courage to inquire if it was Brace stood in the hall.

You could tell, when the left foot entered the room before any other part of the body did, that it wasn’t Brace coming into the room. The shoe was much bigger, cleaner, nicer, too affordable for your uncle.

The air in the room was tense — uncomfortable. James Delaney was stood in the corner with his hands grazing his trousers. He was momentarily silent, running over the many, many ways he could approach you. His blue eyes lifted to you, curious to know if you were ogling him. He came to the conclusion, quite quickly, that you were.

You wondered if he was here to talk to you, but you made no movement to speak to him. The room remained silent, awkwardly lonely even though the pair of you occupied the small space. James made his way forward and toward the coffee table. On the corner, a closed book with a folded slip of paper resided. It caught your eye only now, as he leaned over to lift the novel. He tucked it away beneath his elbow, clasping it against his rib cage before he tipped his head toward you in the slightest and turned around to leave the room.

A breath, that you didn’t know you’d been holding in, left your lips. “Mr.. James?” You whispered out breathily. It shocked you just as much as it shocked him.

He halted in place. Tonguing his cheek momentarily, he slowly turned around to face you. “Mh?”

You shifted on the sofa before slowly rising from your seated position. It was an attempt to seem somewhat more courageous than you actually were. Facing the man who was ogling you with an inquisitive stare, you merely sent him a very light smile before struggling to find the words you could feel building in your throat. Thank you? “I won’t be any trouble.” You assured him quietly.

A low grumble of consideration left him. His blue eyes took the time to scrutinize you. You didn’t look like trouble.. and that wasn’t what he was worried about. You had soft-appearing skin. Warm eyes. A pretty smile. Your hair was pinned up and out of your face, visibly curly, he could tell because of the stray strands that dangled beside your ears. He looked no lower than your face, uninterested in your attire or the way you fidgeted in front of him nervously. Your hands wrung together, stomach churning queasily as he held your gaze unbothered. “I have no doubt about that.” He tipped his head once before twisting back around and leaving the room.

October 22

The house was filthy. The floorboards were coated in a thick layer of dust. Spiderwebs lurked in the largest corners of the home, out of reach in high places that would require a ladder in order to clean up. The dishes in the sink were beginning to pile up and the house seemed to hold a dark, gloomy atmosphere. No matter how many times the curtains were drawn open in order to let in some natural light, it did nothing to brighten the gray home. The foggy city had no visible sun, therefore no bright rays to cast down, through the opened windows.

The skin of your knees was turning bright red from your position on the floor in the kitchen. You scrubbed, seemingly angrily, at the wood, doing your best to wipe up all the stains, dust, and food that was spilled over the length of the previous week. Brace was slacking. He didn’t ever want to do anything. Cleaning was the last thing on his mind. All he did now was perch himself down on the sofa in the living room or a chair in the kitchen and drink until he could hardly remember his first name. You didn’t mind taking over the chores, but it was a big house. There was so much to do. And a lot of it hadn’t been tended to in what appeared to be forever. The spider webs had probably been gathering for months. The floorboards in the corridor were coated in thick layers of ash and crumbs.. you were sure the living room would look just the same if the large rug weren’t in place. Heaving a loud sigh, you pushed yourself up and off of the ground so you could wash your hands in the sink. The ground didn’t sparkle, but it certainly wasn’t as dirty as it had been a few hours ago. Brushing the back of your hand along the length of your sweaty forehead, you let out a heavy breath. It was so hot in the big house. Even with the window open in the corner, allowing the heavy, cold wind to rush through, you were sweating. But hard work always left a person feeling hot, you knew it was just becayse you were constantly doing something.

James made his way into the kitchen, quiet as per usual. He offered a quiet grunt of acknowledgment before carefully stepping over the wet ground. One wrong move and the dirt that clung to the bottoms of his soles would stain the floor once more. His eyes roamed the floorboards, briefly lifting to your own so he could ogle you with a light twitch of his lips. You squirmed in place before leaning back against the counter.

“Does it.. look alright?” Your question made the man’s brows arch. “I mean.. is it clean enough?”

James let out a low grumble before nodding. His thick arms folded over his chest, flexing beneath the thin fabric he wore. “It looks just fine. Better than Brace usually does. He doesn’t actually even bother to clean the floors.” There was a momentary silence — you asking yourself if you were doing too much and him pondering why he was even bothering to stand around and have a conversation with you. He had work to do. “Where is Brace?”

Your soft eyes fell away from his face. Rotating around so that you didn’t have to face him, you grasped the moist rag from the sink and slowly began to wipe down the counters. “Hiding from the grief he can’t seem to get away from.” You told him quietly. “My mother.. she was really angry at him for a long time.” James straightened. “They didn’t have a chance to make up before she died.” An apology resided on the tip of his tongue. He wanted to sympathize with you, which was quite uncharacteristic. Typically he’d brush off the icky feeling of sympathy and offer distractions to a sad person. But this was Brace. A very hard-working, dedicated friend of his. He couldn’t just ignore the fact that the man was feeling down. “He doesn’t want any help, Mr. Delaney. Believe me, I’ve offered it to him. He’s coping.. just slowly, and in his own way.” Licking your lips, you slowly looked in his direction.

James nodded once before making a mental note to avoid any talks of death for a long time. The broad man approached the cabinet in the corner and gently drew the wooden doors open. Reaching inside for a glistening, black mug, he drew the glass out and set it on the counter. Reaching for the hot pitcher of coffee, he ensured he was being careful — avoiding burning himself as he dumped a mugful into the glass. “Do you want a mug?” He inquired, back to you and head tipped south as he made the beverage to his liking.

You shook your head gently before realizing that he couldn’t see you. “No, sir, that’s.. alright.” It felt odd to refer to a man who wasn’t your father as something so.. superior. Sir sounded as if you were addressing a man who held power. Someone well-respected. Or maybe it was just polite to do and you were reading to far into it.

“James is fine.” He murmured. Dipping the silver spoon, he cradled in his hand, into the hot liquid, he began to stir it lazily, breaking down the grains of sugar so they sweetened the bitter, plain, caffeinated drink.

“Is there.. anything in particular that you need finished today? I was going to try and rid of the spiderwebs, but they’re a bit too high for me to reach.” Every word you said was a struggle to hear. Your voice was so delicate and soft, the man felt the urge to bark at you to talk louder — an urge he managed to fight off.

“Nevermind the spiderwebs. They’ll be back wihtin a few days if you even bother knocking them down.” He lifted the mug from the counter and moved toward the table in the center of the room. Lowering himself down at the wobbly surface, he perched himself down on a chair and laid his elbows on the surface of the clean table. “All I need help doing is laundry.” His pointer finger lifted. “Sweeping, dinner, dishes,” He had four fingers raised, counting off the chores. “the plants need to be cared for..” He ogled you under an unwavering stare. “Simple things. If something looks untidy or bothersome, we’ll clean it up.. if it looks just fine or is too difficult to tend to, ignore it. It’s an old house.” He defended. It creaked and moaned daily, floorboards hollow and loose. He wasn’t too worried about the structure or the walls being clean. He didn’t care about the floor being sparkly. A little dust or sweep here and there was fine to avoid tracking crumbs all along the house and letting the annoying, hard pieces embed themselves in his flesh. He hated that more than anything.

Your head nodded to each one of the things he said, making a mental reminder to tend to each of the tasks. Shifting beneath his stare, you shyly brushed wisps of your hair away from your eyes before ushering toward the doorway that led to the corridor. “Well, I’ll get to it.” Smiling sweetly, you tipped your head toward him before practically scurrying from the room.

The man almost smiled against the mug he held to his lips, but he bit back the small expression and instead put his focus into anything other than Brace’s niece.

October 23

“I didn’t mean to break them.” You informed the man you considered to be your boss. The tall bloke was stood at the vanity in the living room. The pads of his fingers delicately traced the broken glasses that were laid out on the surface. “I didn’t realize how wobbly the..” Your voice threatened to give out, wisely attempting to shut you up, but you cleared your throat and stepped closer to James. “dresser is. I was wiping it down and they just fell.”

James looked to his left, head tipping south so he could ogle you. You drew your bottom lip in, suckling on the tender flesh as you shuffled nervously beneath his stare. “Accidents happen.” He uttered before looking back to the glasses. They had belonged to his father and he was sure that if anyone else had broken them, he’d be infuriated. James merely scooped the broken shards into his palm before rotating around on his boot and setting off to dump the contents in the trash. You watched him go, eyes falling to the floorboards which seemed to shake violently beneath his retreating form.

The moment James left the room, Brace stepped into it. He looked exhausted, completely drained. The bags he usually had under his eyes were much darker, impossible to miss. He’d been wearing the same outfit for the last three days and everytime you greeted him, you merely recieved a grunt. Brace lowered his fingers to the button down he wore. The gray fabric was dirty and stained with alcohol, but he didn’t seem to care. He pushed on further into the room before allowing himself to drop down on one of the sofa’s.

“I’m sorry I haven’t been much help lately.” His gruff voice was almost inaudible as he spoke to you. Studying the man under a curious stare, you drew your bottom lip in before moving around the sofa and dropping down directly beside him.

“I don’t blame you for needing a little time to yourself.. time to just be and not do anything. But I hope you’re alright.” The man nodded once to your quiet consoling words.

“Just fine.” He assured you before tipping his head back so he could stare up at the webs that decorated the dark ceiling. “I hope you’re getting on with James well.”

“He’s.. sweet.” You offered. You didn’t know the man well enough to actually know him. You didn’t talk to him much unless it was about chores. “He doesn’t say much.”

Brace nodded. He just wanted to make sure that James wasn’t giving you a hard time. “Well,” The man sighed breathily before patting your hand lightly. “all’s well then. I’ll start helping out from now on. Probably gonna get started with upstairs.” He wasnt in the mood to converse — he just wanted to briefly check up on you.

You knew he was climbing the flight so he could return to his bottle of liquor, but you sent him a warm smile, pretending as if you didn’t know he was continuing to drown himself in the alcohol. It didn’t matter what you said or did, no amount of reassuring words could comfort his heart like the whisky in his room.

James moved back into the living room just as Brace was moving out. You stood, placing your hands on your hips. Ogling the man in the corner as he lifted his heavy coat from the back of the sofa, you watched him intently — curiously. He glanced in your direction, heated beneath your stare. Neither of you spoke at first, before he began to draw the heavy coat over his arms and on to his shoulders.

“I’ll be back in a while.” He grunted shortly before ushering toward you. “Take a break.” He nodded once. That was as kind as he could be. Rotating on his heel, he left the room without so much as a goodbye. Your eyebrows lifted, studying the vacant spot he’d just been stood in before you turned around and resumed cleaning. You didn’t need a break. The work would just pile up. It was a sizeable house.

You cleaned the living room, the kitchen, the guest room, the bathroom, the staircase, and then made your way up the long flight so you could tend to the bathroom upstairs. The mirror was filthy, covered in smudges that you had to scrub in order to remove. James had been gone for hours and it wasn’t your place to, but you were beginning to worry.

Laying the dirty rag on the sink, you turned the nozzle and stuck your hands beneath the ice cold water. Allowing the droplets to soak your dirty hands, you let out a quiet hum before twisting around so you could toss the dirty rag into the bucket in the corner. Laundry. You’d have to do it tomorrow. The sun was gone and the moon was out. Dinnertime had come and gone. Brace was passed out in his bedroom, arms locked around the empty bottle and mouth pressed to the rim. You’d checked on him a few times throughout the day and although he was drunk and quiet, he was as alright as he could be.

The sound of the front door opening and then slamming shut filled the house. You glanced over your shoulder. Pausing long enough to turn off the bathroom light, the bright, glowing bulbs went dark as you left the room. Descending the creaky staircase, your ears twitched and eyes scanned the corridor. There was a trail of blood from the entryway that led to the main room. You could hear muffled groaning, a sound of someone in immense pain.

“Mr. Delaney?” You tried. There was momentary silence. “Mr... James?” Blinking slowly, you stepped down on to the carpet. Avoiding the blood that stained the floor — which would be a heavy, hard job for you tomorrow, you moved into the den. The fire was lit, dancing along the man slumped on the sofa. James looked drained, pale, sick almost. His blue eyes drifted to you, worn and hooded.

“Y/n. Get me Brace.” His words were almost slurred.

“Brace is.. unconscious. He’s been drinking all day.” You whispered before stepping toward him. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Your eyes scanned his sweaty skin before dropping to the area he cradled with his hand. The blood was seeping through his shirt. “James..” A harsh, worried whisper escaped you.

“I’m alright.” He narrowed his eyes, as if scolding you for daring to worry about something so pointless. He definitely wasn’t alright, that much was obvious. But you admired his attempt to seem tough and brave at all hours of the day.

“You know it’s okay to admit that you’re not alright?” Lowering yourself down at his side, your tender touch lured his eyes toward the fire. He avoided gazing at you as you placed your hand on his. Pushing it out of the way so you could see the damage done, your eyes widened considerably. Rising from the couch, you left the room without a word. All you’d seen was a long gash of blood, staining his shirt. It was enough information to send you off toward the kitchen to fetch the first aid.

James grumbled incoherently before laying his forearm along the arm of the sofa. Tipping his head back with a low growl of discomfort, he shut his eyes. There wasn’t much peace and quiet before you came scurrying back in.

“I took a few um.. classes for nurses.” You told him quietly as you dropped back down on the cushion at his side. “I can at least clean it and bandage it up if you want.”

You could tell he didn’t want any help. He could tell you yearned to assist him. His eyes drifted back to your features, scanning the plea in your gaze. With a noisy sigh, he pinched the bottom of his shirt and rolled it up to his rib cage. Exposing the wound, he scanned your expression.

“Jesus..” You placed your hand on his stomach. Pushing on him lightly so he would straighten, your fingertip brushed along the red, irritated space that surrounded the actual opening. “That might need stitches.”

“I don’t think I want you poking at me with a needle.” He ground out with gritted teeth.

“I’m not.. I wouldn’t want to risk that. I don’t know how to stitch wounds closed but I can try to numb it. But you need to turn, I can hardly reach you.” Patting his leg as if to tell him to get a move on, you stood. James rotated on the couch, pressing his back against the arm of the furniture. Opening his legs, he grumbled out breathily. This was not ideal. Brace would have a fit if he came in and saw the two of you seated in such a suggestive manner. You rose up from the couch. Allowing him to lay out across the length of the cushions, you slowly lowered yourself down on the floor. James shook his head before moving to stand. He certainly didn’t want you perched on the ground like some sort of —

“Would you be still?” You laid your hand on his chest. “Stop worrying about this and that and just let me clean the wound.” You popped the kit open before drawing out a wipe, cleanser, some numbing cream, and finally a bandage. Kneeling at his side, you drew out the sanitary wipe before slowly pressing it against his stomach. Cleaning the area around the wound, you studied the injury. It wasn’t your business what had happened and you were sure he’d lie if you asked anyway.

“You’re far too gentle.” He pointed out.

“You’re injured. I’m suppose to be gentle.” You told him softly. Your eyes lifted to his own after a few seconds. “Is that.. bad?”

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “No, I don’t know many women who are still so tender. But maybe it’s just the one’s I’m acquainted with.” His eyes moved to your fingers, watching the way your nimble digits traced his flesh before you sent him a small smile.

“I’m just being careful.. kind. There’s enough anger and meanness in the world, isnt there? Besides, I dont get rough or mad at much.. if anything really.” Your eyes moved from the gash to the kit. Lifting the next wipe because it would clean the actual part of the wound without burning him, you sighed breathily. “Suppose I was mad at god or.. whoever.” You whispered when the silence droned on. “Whoever decided it was my mother’s time to go. She wasn’t the sweetest woman, but I loved her.” James frowned. He tried to think of how to console you, but he found that his mind was blank. He wasn’t use to people opening up to him. “The world is a cruel place. It’s left me all on my own.”

James winced sharply beneath the cool temperature of the wipe. He expected pain, but none came. You had the magic touch. Everything you did to him, he just felt pressure, mild discomfort, but no pain. “You’re not on your own.” He uttered huskily. “What about Brace?”

“He can hardly remember my name after he’s had his visit with that whisky bottle. I don’t blame him, I don’t mind that he has his own way of coping, but..” You tossed the blood-covered wipe on to the package in the corner before grabbing the numbing cream.

“Well, I’m here.” He told you hoarsely. “If you ever need to go to someone.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he was offering by telling you that he was there if you ever needed anyone, but he was sure he wouldn’t regret it. You sent him a sweet smile before applying some of the cream to your finger.

“Close your eyes.” You told him softly. At first, he didn’t, but when you made no movement to continue unless he did, he obeyed. His eyes shut and his lips parted, waiting for the inevitable pain he was sure would come. You pressed your fingertip against one end of the wound before slowly dragging it along the gash, all the way to the other side. Hunching over, you blew your breath on to his stomach, cooling the burning which was bound to accompany the numbing ointment. Continuing to blow in order to bring some relief, you looked toward his face. His features were scrunched, an attempt to swallow down the urge to voice his discomfort, but your gentle blow brought some relief. Licking your lips, you applied a different cream, one that wouldn’t hurt him at all because it was more of a protective coat. It would keep out all the bacteria that would no doubt swarm the opened wound. Reaching for the bandage, you sealed the wound closed as best as you could before looking toward his expression.

“Good as new.” You chirped playfully before pushing yourself up and off of your knees. Cleaning up the mess on the floor, you pinched the trash and loaded everything back into the kit. Carrying it back into the kitchen, you tucked the kit back into its rightful place, in the top drawer before moving back into the living room. James was sitting upright, hand rested on the side of his stomach. He felt a lot better than he had when he’d come home but now that he was bandaged up and had some ointment on the wound...

“Thank you.” The words felt foreign to him. “For uh.. helping me.” He stood. Brace hadn’t ever offered to clean his wounds or tend to them. He cleared his throat quietly before slowly moving toward the vanity in the corner. “Take the day off tomorrow. Go out, do something you like.” He told you quietly. “You’re cooped up all day in here. Can’t be good for you.”

Your eyes drifted to him, soft and appreciative. Brushing your hands off on your dress, you shuffled your weight. “Not much to do around here, not anything on my own.” You didn’t feel safe wandering the streets aimlessly without anyone by your side. You heard too many stories of women being attacked and robbed. “Would you like to come along?” Your eyes moved along his face. “You probably need rest for now because of your stomach, but,” you paused momentarily. “maybe next week?”

James wasn’t sure why a ‘yes’ bubbled within him before he even had time to ponder the question. He lifted his hand to his face, scratching at the hair that coated his chin. A light nod and a short grunt were all you received before the man left the room, leaving you alone with your thoughts.

October 30

It was the day before Halloween. James had promised you a day off of work, a day that he would accompany you out and about. He’d kept his word. He’d taken you for lunch and then you’d gone for a nice stroll. Now you were just exploring. It was gloomy and gray, but the rain that had been expected hadn’t fallen. The pair of you were now at a market, set up near the river. Your fingertips traced the jewelry that hung from the racks, priced and waiting to be bought. You had no intentions of purchasing anything, you just liked to look. James hovered close to you, clearing his throat and moving even closer when men would stare in your direction for too long. A few times he’d gone as far as to place his hand on the middle of your back to let the men know you weren’t to be ogled. You weren’t his by any means, but he didn’t like the way the blokes feasted on you with their beady eyes.

The day had been passing by far too quickly. You’d expected it to be awkward because the two of you barely knew each other, but if anything it was easy to talk to him. Fun getting to know him. He wasn’t as tough and rough as he appeared to be — he had a relatively sweet side.

Turning away from the jewelry, you laid your hand on his arm and squeezed it reassuringly when he looked toward you to ensure you were alright. You were use to men staring — you supposed they all had problems. None of them knew what self control was. You almost rolled your eyes at the though. Men were also pigs. You looked to James. Most of them. Lost in your thoughts, you moved to cross the street without bothering to look in either direction. James was busy purchasing one of the jewels you’d liked. He was trying to be discreet — he didn’t want to make a big deal out of it. It was only when he turned, tucking the necklace away in his pocket that he saw your bouncing form, crossing the road with no attentiveness to the angry horses coming your way.

“Y/n!” James shouted. His call was muffled, impossible for you to really hear over the shouts of the men, racing after the horses and pleading for someone to grab them. James narrowed his gaze, squinting toward the loose horses which ran at a speed that would trample you instantly. Leaning into the road just enough to where he could grab you, he locked his hand around your arm and pulled you back into the sidewalk. You gasped sharply, body hitting his roughly and just in time to avoid being crushed by the animals that didn’t care if they hit you or not. You whimpered out against him, eyes sliding shut and stomach tightening considerably. You felt like an absolute idiot. Lifting your hands to your face, you distanced from him before turning on your heel and setting off toward a nearby alley. You flushed beneath the stares of passerby’s, silently judging your idiocy for attempting to cross without bothering to examine your surroundings. You dipped into the empty alley and slumped against the wall. James was quick to follow, black coat lifting behind him and carrying in the wind. He pursed his lips before approaching you.

“Are you alright?” He pushed his hand into his pockets, scanning your expression as you tried — and failed — to hide behind your hands.

“Fine.” You whispered. “I guess I got carried away and excited to see the other side of the market.”

“Excitement is good.” He grumbled out. “It’s alright, you just have to be more careful.” He shrugged. “And if you’re shying away from the people staring, trust me, they’ve probably done worse.” He took his place at your side, strong shoulders connecting with the wall as he leaned against it. His words pulled a smile from you. Looking up at him, you cleared your throat quietly. You didn’t speak just yet, so he offered another reason for you to overlook the internal stupidity you felt. “Also, the horses are usually tied to a post, not running lose to wreak havoc and crush women.” That pulled a smile from you. Biting on your bottom lip, you looked toward your feet, basking in the silence before you finally spoke.

“I’ve had a really good day today.” You’d never really been able to venture out and see the markets. Your mother was too ill to go with you so you’d spent all your time inside, caring for her because you didn’t want to leave. Going out on your own and leaving her all on her own — neither of those sounded appealing. But going out with James.. it was very lovely. James grunted quietly. “I hope I didn’t take too much time away from your busy work schedule.” James grunted again.

“No. I wouldn’t have agreed to come along if it would’ve affected me.” His tongue slid along his lips before he turned toward you. “Here.” He reached into his pocket before drawing out the chain he bought for you. “This,” he extended his arm, palm opened so you could see the dangling jewel. “was the one you were looking at. Isn’t it?”

Your jaw dropped. Pushing yourself off of the wall, your hand pressed against his wrist, steadying it as you admired the shiny, red circle. “James, you...”

“I knew you weren’t going to ask.” He murmured. He wasn’t an idiot. He saw you try to ask him four times before you just gave up.

Your eyes lifted to his own. Smiling slowly, your soft eyes trailed along his expression before you moved your free hand to the necklace. Tracing the red jewel, you slowly lifted it from his palm. It was the nicest, most selfless thing anyone had ever done for you. “You’re spoiling me.” You teased quietly.

James grumbled out incoherently before kicking his boot against the cobble. Shuffling his weight from foot to foot, he lifted his hand to his cheek and rubbed the stubble that resided there. Peering down at your happy expression, he let his eyes glide along your alight eyes to the curve of your lips. You looked very pretty when you were shining as bright as the hidden sun — so appreciative. So pure.

Without much thought at all, you lifted your small hands to his cheeks, noting his gaze, and leaned up on your tiptoes to press a very short, chaste kiss against his plump lips. You merely meant the small gesture as a way of saying thanks. It was a mere brush of the lips, and neither of you had expected for it to linger, but you didn’t dare distance yourself. You were waiting to see if he would initiate anything further. He let his mouth touch yours again and then once more. His breaths were heavy, hollow, they tickled your upper lip as he exhaled like a tired bull. His lips covered yours for another second and temptation told him to press you up against the wall and kiss you like he suddenly wanted to — instead he drew back a bit sharply. Clearing his throat, he lifted his hand to his tophat and removed it. He cradled the black rim as he scratched viciously at his messy head of hair before placing the cap back in its rightful place. You noted how confused he looked.

“James, I’m sorry.” The whisper was almost inaudible. Internally, you felt like you were on fire. Your skin boiled from the inside out. Trembling in front of the man nervously because you were positive you’d misinterpreted where the situation was going, you lifted your small hands to your face, momentarily cowering away from his bright, icy orbs. Your palms fell away from your face after a few moments though, stomach churning nauseously. “I must’ve misread the.. I thought..” Your lips burned. You wanted to kiss him again. The man was stood much taller than you, seemingly taller when he had such a stern expression on his face. He narrowed his eyes further, squinting as if he were trying to understand what had just happened. You kept looking from his blue eyes to his plump lips, curious to know if he’d enjoyed the little touch or if he’d absolutely hated it. He wasn’t distancing from you by any means. With every inhale, his chest skimmed yours. You could practically feel the internal battle that he was having with himself. His hand lifted, hovering above your hip before he placed it on the curve of your waist and pulled you into him firmly. His touches were nowhere near as tender as yours were, but you didn’t expect them to be. Lifting your hands to the front of his chest, you steadied yourself, head tipping back so you could see him clearly. The nerves in your stomach swam up and into your throat, preventing you from speaking. James parted his lips, allowing them to skim yours again, testing to see if the same fiery emotions simmered in his stomach. They did.

“Brace can’t know.” James told you hoarsely. His voice was quiet, stern, a demand. You nodded once, fingertips gliding north so you could mess with the collar of his shirt. Your breaths mixed as the pair of you stood impossibly close. A little bob of your head was all he’d received. Did he want to kiss again or was he talking about the previous kisses? Your eyes searched his for the answer, but you found nothing. You assumed you were in control of what happened next. It didn’t take you long to decide. Leaning up on your toes so you could reach his lips again, you tugged him against you firmly before closing the space and kissing him.

This time it was just a little deeper. A little firmer. His mouth slanted against yours perfectly, immediately pulling the softest sound from your tight throat as you wrapped him in your arms snugly. His mustache tickled you now and then, but you didn’t dare giggle for you didn’t want the liplock to come to a close. James placed his hand on your lower back, lazily stroking the material of your dress as his mouth connected with your own repeatedly. His breaths were still deep and loud, ragged as he kissed you. It sounded like he’d just been running and now he was out of breath. Placing your hand against the back of his head, you let your tongue skim his bottom lips, a very playful, soft, and slow movement. The man pressed you against the wall securely, trapping you in place with his body.

“James?” A sudden voice filled the alley. It was chirpy, curious. It echoed throughout the hollow space. The man didn’t dare break away from you, he merely continued to try and kiss you, but curiosity pulled at you, forcing you to open your eyes to examine the woman stood at the end of the alley. Your mouth was still on his, tender and slow as he held you close to him. It was only when he began to break the kiss that he looked in her direction. He licked his lips slowly, hand remaining in place on your back as he squinted toward the redhead who’d just interrupted.

“Lorna.” He stated simply. What on earth did she want — and couldn’t it just fucking wait?

———————————————————————

A/N: THERE WLL BE A PART 2 (:

Tagged: @peakblogbecauseimweak @mollybegger-blog @morphoportis @ghost-of-student-sufferings @drippydownes2002 @ellar21 @sovereigngoth @willowick13 @pansexualginger @marvelgirl7 @heyitscam99 @wow-he-cute @haroldpain @justrepostandlove @emerald-bijou @multireality @innerpaperexpertcloud @goodiesintheclosetlove @giftofdreams @ihclipse @inkedfandom @thatsamegirl @doct0rstrange @jakechillenhaal @shanty-lol @centerhabit @clevertheoristpainter @jamierdr @favouritereadings @badmaax @thephuonganh @wewillfindourwaythere @uhhhemilyrose @scarrasco1325 @matoki-darkpanda @bignastyfan-nz @hot-and-spiceyyy @azayamari @shane-isa-shame @chimthighz @baliadelcuore @lonewolf471 @crldrr @keeleyella @overitall2018 @lovebitesimagines @eddieisasnack

[buckys-forgotten-plum]

Kindergarten Crush

Prompt: thank ya girl @kpopgirlbtssvt for this!

Y/n is a kindergarten teacher who has decided to take her kiddos on a ~super duper~ field trip to the museum where she finds herself a little too interested in one of the exhibits.

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

Word count:  5094

Warnings: language...maybe? Length also? I have a problem with over writing my stuff and I feel like it gets boring and too lengthy. Also my computer always fucks up the formatting so that might also be an issue. 

Here we gooooooooo

----------------------------------------------------------

“Alright come along my little ducklings!” You smiled happily, leading a small line of children off a yellow bus and out into the parking lot of the Smithsonian.

“Miss y/n how come we have to go to the museum? It’s soooooooo boring!” moans a small boy who huffily stomped down the stairs of the bus.

“Joey, that is actually a very good question! but we’re gonna have to work on your manners,” you smile while making sure to wave a stern finger at the cute little boy. “Can anyone remember what we were learning about yesterday and our word of the week?” you ask lightly, making sure that all children are accounted for before entering the large building.

Multiple children raised their hands excitedly, wanting to be the first to answer the question (most likely because you rewarded each child who answered correctly with either a small piece of candy or a cute pencil topper) You looked around, making a thoughtful face as you decided who to pick on. Your mind became set on a red haired boy named Connor. He had been quite respectful during the bus ride over and had been nice enough to give his early morning juice box to a clumsy girl who had dropped hers. “Connor? Would you like to answer?”

As the rest of the kids lowered their hands in slight disappointment Connor smiled happily and took a second before answering, “um we um we learned about uh the uhm the first airplanes! And then um the uh the word was um respect!” he answered happily.

You giggle at his slightly rough response and hand him a small piece of strawberry taffy, his favourite and gave a quick response, “Good job Connor! we are learning about the very first planes and how they’ve helped us in history. Your also correct for our word of the week being respect. Now can anyone tell me what respect means?”

Another round of hands shoot into the air and you waste no time before choosing the next student, “Charlie go ahead,”

“Respect is when you are super nice to someone,” the little girl smiles sweetly as she answers the question.

“Good job charlie, here you go honey,” You giggle at her cuteness while handing her a little kitty pencil topper that she gladly took before putting it into her pocket.

“Thank you miss y/n!” she yells happily, making you smile down at her with a grin of your own.

Before going into the museum you wanted to make sure that all your students knew how they needed to behave for the day so you whistled a fun little tune to get everyone’s attention (they were suppose to attempt to copy it back to you but most of them failed each time... it was extremely cute)

“Alright guys, we gotta make sure to be super respectful to all the people and exhibits. That means no shouting or touching things you’re not suppose to, so always ask beforehand okay buddies?”

The children all replied with a synchronized chorus of “Okay buddy!”, another one of your fun rituals.

A wide grin was painted onto your lips as you lead all the kids and chaperones into the museum with the hope of a fun day following beside you.

------------------------------------------------------

“Miss who are they?” one of your students asks quietly and points to the most populated and well maintained exhibit in the entire museum.

“That’s Steve Rogers and his best friend, Bucky Barnes. Mr. Rogers is Captain America and that’s what he looked like way back when he first started being a hero, same with his friend there.” your explanation was quiet and you spent a bit more time looking at the handsome face of the Winter Soldier when the old timey video paused to share a few facts of the metal-armed soldier.

You were pulled from your small day dream by an even smaller hand gripping your shirt, “Can we go closer miss y/n?” Conner asked, which was quickly followed by a small chorus of please’s by the other three kids in your touring group.

You nod kindly before responding, “of course guys, remember to stay near me though,”

The group of you go over to the small room, full of World War Two memorabilia and everything having to do with the famous super soldier known as Captain America. A video played on repeat as the sound echoed throughout the dimly lit room softly. The four children that accompanied you slowly spread out, keeping mind to stay close enough for your comfort as you slowly made your way around the room, being careful to read everything that was presented to you.

The history behind Steve Rogers was interesting, but after a little bit, you started to notice how interested you were in Bucky. He was, after all, your favourite Avenger so it wasn’t too surprising to you that he was what caught your eye the most.

Best friends since childhood, Bucky Barnes and Steven Rogers were inseparable...

It was a sad story...the origin of The Winter Soldier.

Barnes, was the only Howling Commando, to give his life, in service of his country.

The video clearly needed to be updated... Though you knew deep down that, even though Bucky was alive, he’d had enough trauma and life experience for an entire soccer team. You couldn’t imagine what went through his head everyday and the extraordinary weight that he carried on his broad shoulders.

Very handsome broad shoulders at that...

“Miss y/n! Can you come help me be as tall as Captain America please?” Conner asks from across the room rather loudly.

It caught the attention of a few bystanders, including an extremely tall man who was giving you weird vibes with his hooded figure and dark clothing. You only glanced at the mysterious man before going over to the small boy looking up at the screen that held Steve Rogers height before and after the serum.

“Connor, I’m not even as tall as Mr. Rogers before the serum, I’m not sure if I’ll be able to lift you up enough...” you admit gently, not wanting to upset the small boy.

“That’s okay, I just wanna know what it’s like to be taller,” he smiles widely, making you laugh.

“I’d like to know what it’s like to be taller too, Connor” you joke with a light giggle before trying to lift him up as far as possible.

“Look miss y/n! we’re just as tall as Captain America,” Connor laughs, almost making you drop him. 

In your defense it’s generally just hard to lift anything with how small you are. 

“I wanna try!” 

                                                               “Me too!”

                         “Wait I wanna be tall too!” 

Your small group of kids all ran up at once as you gently put Connor on the floor, their loud voices ringing throughout the small room and earning a few glares from the other people trying to enjoy history. 

“Keep your voices down everyone, remember what we agreed to outside?” 

“Respect” they all chorused quietly, earning a breathy laugh from yourself and a chuckle from the strange man who had been looking at you earlier.

You squint your eyes in suspicion at the loss of distance that had occured within the last few minutes between your group and the tall stranger. It made you a little nervous and left a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach, but you brushed it off as being a paranoid teacher. Although it could totally be a human trafficker... Maybe a modern day Ted Bundy? What if he was a weirdo who was gonna try and take your purse?

bzz..bzzz..bzz...

you were pulled out of your thoughts by the soft feeling of your phone going off in the pocket of your skirt. 

“Hey guys this is one of the other groups, don’t go anywhere alright? I’ll be back in a jiffy,” You state quietly and walk a few feet away, turning your back from the slightly noisy children who were now trying to lift each other up to the height of the glowing screen. 

“Hey gretta, everything okay?” 

“Everything is fine, y/n. I was just calling to say that all the kiddos in my group are getting a bit hungry and was wondering if we would head to the park soon for lunch?” Gretta, who was a mom of one of your students was really your right hand during field trips like these.

She was always extremely helpful with snacks, reservations, carpool, everything really. Gretta was also a close friend of yours and it was always a comfort to have her around for support when times got stressful.

“Yeah, go ahead and tell the other group leaders to head down to the entrance in...15 minutes? That way we can all walk together,” you state, taking a quick glance back at your students. 

“alright, you got it boss. Everything going alright?” she asks gently, wanting to make sure you weren’t too stressed out. 

“Everything has been great so far. Although there’s this one dude-” “Ooohhh! Go get him y/n!” Gretta jokes, her heavy laugh having no trouble being heard from the small phone in your hand. 

“What? No that’s not what I was gonna say... He is really tall though,” 

“Everyone is really tall compared to you,” your friend laughs even louder, making you hold the phone away from your ear for a few seconds before returning to its original position. 

“Mean-” “But true” “Okay I’m leaving now,” “Love ya y/n!” 

You sighed heavily, a smile on your face due to the strange friend you had. The smile didn’t stay long before you turned around and spotted the sight in front of you. All your kids were laughing happily, one of them lifted in the air so high that she was taller than the height of their favourite super soldier. 

“Excuse me, put her down right now!” your brain was going a mile a minute as your feet furiously carried you over to the stranger who was holding two of your students. All of your students ceased their laughter as they see the angry face of their teacher. 

“What makes you think you can start picking my students up without even knowing who they are!? Honestly what kinda creep-” “I’m sorry, doll. Must’ve been quite the scare to see a creep like me helping your kids out,” The stranger apologizes as he puts the two kids back on their feet, pulling his hood down to show you a shiney, white-toothed, smile. 

“Oh my god...” you mutter and nearly choke on your spit as you look up at the man in front of you. 

“Miss y/n he’s not a bad guy! He’s the cool robot guy from the video,” Connor exclaims happily. 

“That’s me, alright. The Cool Robot Guy” he nods and waves, a shiny metal hand coming out from his hoodie pocket. 

“Uhm... Mr. Barnes, hello. I’m so sorry I yelled...it’s just, I thought you were-” “Nah I get it, some tall scary dude messing with little kids is a scary sight, you did the right thing. Also please don’t call me Mr. Barnes, it’s Bucky,” 

“Right, Bucky. It’s very nice to meet you sir, my name is y/n, these are my students- Charlie, Connor, Anna, and Fargo. We’re here on a field trip today to learn about planes but got a little distracted,” You laugh lightly, trying to cover up the embarrassment of telling off one of Earth’s mightiest heroes. 

“That’s quite exciting guys. You know, I get to fly planes all the time,” Bucky states, his smile growing at the gawking children in front of him. 

He continued to tell your small group of students all about his adventures from being a superhero, answering every single question they asked him. You had skillfully started to move the group towards the stairs, knowing full well that it was time to take the kids to lunch. There wasn’t a moment of silence as Bucky handled the curious children and their prying questions. He didn’t hesitate to answer anything that was thrown at him, which you admired wholeheartedly. The kids asked how his arm worked, what it felt like, if they could feel it. Anna even asked if he could take it off. That one made Bucky pause and you noticed the slight movement of the metal panels clenching in stress from the invasive question. 

“Um, no sorry hun. It doesn’t really work like that,” he answers quietly before looking back at you, “You’re pretty quiet, dollface. You got any questions for me?”

“No, sir. I think I’m okay just listening for now,” you smile politely, blushing at the nickname that had so beautifully fallen from his lips.

He gives you a wide grin and puts an arm behind his head to mess with his dark hair, “jeez, really making me feel old with all that ‘sir’ garbage you’re throwing around,” 

A laugh escapes your lips at his joking comment and you can’t help but to mutter a quiet ‘sorry’. It didn’t take too long to find the rest of your class and the parents who had agreed to help out for the day. When your group finally came into view, Bucky in tow, any idea of going to lunch was thrown out the window immediately as the small army of children began to shout in excitement. 

It was great meeting Bucky Barnes, but honestly you were so hungry. 

------------------------------------------------------

You were extremely nervous. 

Your hands couldn’t stop pulling at the soft fabric from the sundress that you had put on in hopes of impressing your date for the night.

That date being Bucky Barnes...

“Oh gosh...” Your hands roughly move down your face in a stressed manner.

“Why did I say yes? Why would I think, at any moment in time, that this, was a good idea,” 

“What if he hates my dress? This is my favourite dress...” you mumble to yourself, a sad expression falling onto your face as you think of how someone as dark and brooding as Bucky would like the light yellow dress you had on. 

As you were about to go to your closet to change into something more...Bucky, the doorbell to your small apartment went off, making you jump and let out a small squeak of surprise. There was no other choice but for you to go and open up the door to reveal the nervous soldier standing outside of it. 

“Hey, y/n. You look absolutely gorgeous,” He compliments quietly, looking down at your small frame before handing you a very pretty bouquet of baby pink teacup roses. 

“Thank you, Bucky. You look really nice too,” The smile on your face was bright as you smelt the lovely perfume of the cute roses you held in hand. 

It was true, Bucky looked really good. He wasn’t wearing anything fancy, just a dark blue Henley shirt with nicely fitting, black jeans. His hair was put up into a messy bun that suited his sharp jawline and gave a lovely view of his pretty blue eyes. 

“Thanks dollface, you ready to go? I got a whole day planned out for us. A movie, nice dinner, and then I was thinking coffee afterwards?” Bucky held an excited smile on his face.  

“That sounds quite nice, is it okay if we go somewhere that has hot chocolate though? I don’t really like coffee all that much,” You mumble out the last part, not wanting to be too much of a bother. 

“No problem pretty girl, let’s get goin” He smiles down at you once again and places a hand out for you to take, which you gladly do.

It was impossible to fight the large grin on your face as Bucky lead you out of your apartment, officially starting the most stressful, yet exciting date of your life. 

You really hoped it would go well.

------------------------------------------------------

“Buck stop! It tickles too much!” your laughing bounced around the room as the slightly scary man with a metal arm tries giving you a leg massage.

“I don’t know what I’m doing wrong though... So weird,” he mumbles, acting oblivious to the fact that he was trying to tickle you into into a coma.

It had started out as a calm day in when Bucky had called you to hang out at the Avengers Tower with him during the God-awful storm that had torn its way through New York. You had watched movies, gotten lunch together, you had even played cards just because Bucky didn’t believe you were better at gambling than he was. Now, you were both in his room, you laying across his bed on your stomach and Bucky straddling your lower back as he gently pushed his fingers into the back of your thighs.

“I’m gonna kick you in the face if you don’t stop right now James Barnes!” You warned, the venom that was supposed to be in your voice, falling flat.

“Oh no I’m soooo scar- OW” he shouts as the ball of your foot hits Bucky right in the chin.

His hands leave your thighs and go up to cradle his face. He slides off of your back, allowing you to flip over and sit up to properly face the hurt “man” in front of you.

“Oh you poor baby,” you mock worriedly and gently place your hands on his, “you want me to kiss it better, bunny?”

Bucky rolls his eyes at the nickname but still muttered out a quiet ‘yes’ which makes you giggle. It had been two months since you had met James Buchanan Barnes at the Smithsonian Museum of American History, and it had been the best two months of your life in all honesty. He was such a kind person.and every second you spent with him was another second your heart spent melting. Although the first date was a bit awkward because of your shy personality and overwhelming amount of nerves, Bucky still wanted to keep seeing you. 

“I’m waitin’ doll,” he mumbles, puffing his lips in a slight pout, and you couldn’t help but to just squish his face in your hands from complete adoration. 

“You’re just so adorable, I don’t wanna close my eyes,” you respond, lips copying the same movements as his. 

“sometimes you just gotta make sacrifices lovie,” Bucky states, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his arms around your waist.

Your face was the color of a goddamn strawberry at the sound of such a cutesy nickname coming from the former assassin. “Buck...” you stumble shyly, pushing your face into his shoulder to hide the embarrassment. 

“Nuh-uh, up here doll, my face is still wounded and I need you to heal me,” He argues, hooking his index finger to the tip of your chin and tilting your head upwards for Bucky to see. 

You puff out your lips and he lightly pecks them, a proud smile displayed on his handsome face. After one kiss, Bucky couldn’t help himself and decided to plant lovely little pecks all over, from eyes to nose, left temple to right. You laughed at his cute antics and tried to push his face away in attempts to make him stop. 

“Bunny stop it!” You giggle out, mushing his face between your small hands while trying to shy away from his kisses. 

Bucky laughed along with you as you held his face back, making it look incredibly silly. 

“Shweethart, you ghatta shtop,” he chuckles, pressing his fingers into your hips as his tap out. 

Your hands drop from bucky’s face, going to rest on his own hands that were still squeezing your hips. Both of you stayed silent, just enjoying the sweet moment at hand. Bucky Barnes was such a strange guy in your eyes, on the outside he was a hardcore, beefy, assassin. But, on the inside, it was like he was made of cotton candy and those cute little chocolate-filled crackers that were shaped like pandas. 

“Bunny can we go get food?” You ask, hand going to your stomach to feel the small grumble. 

“Of course, lovie,” Bucky responds, placing a soft kiss on the apple of your cheek and lifting both of your bodies up to begin the short journey to the kitchen.

Your legs were wrapped around Bucky’s hips, arms around his neck, and forehead resting in the crook of his neck. It was so hard to keep yourself from hugging Bucky, he was always so warm and even though he was super muscley, it was so comforting to be in his tight embrace. He had a specific way of hugging you too, he would wrap one arm around your shoulders and the other around your waist, pushing his face into the fluff of your hair. Your legs would be so close, sometimes he would pull you onto his feet just to lose those few extra centimeters of space and each time, after the hug was over, he would nudge his nose along your cheek before giving you a cute little peck on either your nose or lips. 

“You want a snack or do you want me to make you something?” He asks, setting you down on the counter and going over to the fridge, but not before giving your hips a soft squeeze.

“It’s okay bunny, I can make myself something,” you state, beginning to hop off the counter. 

Bucky stopped you, “It’s alright, I’m hungry too so I’ll just make something for us both. You want mac n’ cheese, baby?” 

“Yes please,” you respond in a quiet tone, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth in a shy manor.

Bucky smiled happily at you, running the pad of his thumb over the exposed part of your lip and making it come out of its hiding place, “don’t do that lovie, you might hurt yourself,” he grumbles lowly. 

“Right, sorry buck. Can I go get my phone, maybe a ponytail to put your hair into as well?” It wasn’t like you needed to ask, but due to the fact that it wasn’t your house and that you haven’t met all who resided within the pristine tower, you felt it necessary. 

“Of course sweetheart, you remember which room is mine?”

“The one on the left with the big wolf on it,” you nod your head in satisfactory, when bucky gave you a thumbs up to signal you had answered correctly. 

Pushing off the counter, you head back to Bucky’s room, thankful that you didn’t run in to anyone on the way. You had yet to meet Bucky’s two best friends Steve and Sam, as well as many of the other Avengers. Although, you had, had the pleasure of meeting Tony Stark the first time Bucky had invited you to come over. Out of nervousness and really just wanting to make a good first impression, you had bought a basil plant for the billionaire. Tony had laughed at your nice gesture, taking the plant and giving you a kind hug afterwards. He had thanked you and told Bucky that you were more than welcome to stay as long as needed. 

It didn’t take you long to find your phone and a ponytail to put up Bucky’s pretty hair. But, you most definitely got distracted by the thought of wearing a Super Soldiers hoodie. That’d be pretty badass, you thought. So, before going back out to enjoy the tempting meal that was now giving off a very wonderful smell that drifted through the air, you ventured into Buck’s closet and began to look through his sweatshirts in order to find the softest one. It didn’t take you long, he didn’t have too many sweatshirts to choose from, but you settled for an extremely soft, navy blue sweatshirt with a small symbol on the breast that showed a little toy gun on it. It didn’t seem very ‘Bucky’ to you so you just assumed it had been given as a gift. 

You slowly made your way back to the kitchen, almost instantly noticing the extreme hail that was pouring down outside. It made you uneasy and nervous to drive back to your apartment, and as you walked into the kitchen, phone shoved into your face to see the newest weather updates, you spoke your unease to Bucky.

“Bunny, is it okay if I stay longer than we talked, I don’t wanna drive in hail and google says-what..” your voice fades away as you see two more tall men in the kitchen then there was before you left. “Uhmm,” 

Your heartbeat immediately picked up to an unnatural speed and you subconsciously took a few steps back, not liking the three pairs of eyes staring down at your short frame. 

“Hey y/n, I thought it might be time for you to meet these guys,” Bucky speaks softly, almost as if you were a frightened animal that might dart away into the forest to hide. 

“Um,” you shook your head microscopically in disagreement, why didn’t he warn you? 

Bucky took a few steps to reach you and gently put his hands on either side of your face, “lovie I know you get nervous, but Steve and Sam aren’t gonna bite, okay? They just wanna meet you because of how important you are to me,” He gives you a reassuring smile when you nod your head in hesitant agreement. 

“Okay, Bunny...kiss?” you ask quietly, wanting just one more thing to boost your confidence. 

Bucky lets out a gruff chuckle before giving you a gently kiss, something you happily melted in to, “Look really nice in my sweatshirt too, doll” he mumbles against your lips before giving you a few more pecks. 

A small smile made its way to your lips as Bucky turned to his two best friends, “Alright guys, this is y/n. Y/n, this is my best friend Steve Rogers and some guy who follows the both of us around,” He jokes, motioning towards the tall men stood across the room.

“Screw you Barnes. At least my girl doesn’t call me by the name of a little fluffy animal-” “I’ll kill you right now bird boy,” Bucky threatened the laughing man, an edge to his voice but a smile on his face. 

“Hello, nice to finally meet you, I’m-” “Steve Rogers, I know. I studied you in college and... I mean your Buck’s best friend too” you mumble out shyly, face going red in complete embarrassment. 

The three men laugh at your small demeanor, finding your shy personality charming, “I’m Sam Wilson, I’m the normal one of the trio. No serum or metal arm, I’m all natural,” he states, a wink following his smart comment.

“You’re one comment away from gettin something metal shoved into your eye,” Bucky grumbles, his metal arm making a light tinking, as it flexed in stress.

You knew how Bucky was about his arm, even if it was a comment from a good friend it still tweaked something inside his brain. You decided it best to slowly slide your fingers between his metallic ones and give a small squeeze, hoping to help a little bit. Buck looked down at you and gave a grateful, half-smile, silently thanking you for the small gesture. 

“Is the food done, bun-er um Bucky?” The correction didn’t feel good in your mouth but if refraining from calling Bucky ‘bunny’ helped ease the tension, you would tough it out. 

Bucky noticed it right away and gave you a confused glance, but quickly brushed it off and answered you with a nod of his head, “yeah sweetheart, I got it all plated for you,” 

“Thank you,” you smile up at him and tug at his arm, Bucky knowing exactly what you wanted, leaned down to your eye level. 

Before you could connect your lips to his, Bucky pulled away slightly, “What’s my name, dollface?” “Buck-” “No, try again,” “Bunny,” 

He smiled and leaned in to give you a quick peck, but you didn’t want to settle for that, so you put your hands on either side of his face and deepened the small kiss just a bit. 

“I think I’m gonna need to schedule a dentist appointment after watching all of this,”

Sams comment went unnoticed by the two of you. Both of your brains were solely focused on the lovely kiss that sent shivers down your spine and had you tightly gripping Bucky’s shirt. Buck gently bit down on your lower lip, causing you to let out a small whine. You were sure that this would have continued if it weren’t for the startling sound of someone clearing their throat in the background.

Bucky pulled away slowly, letting out a small, exasperated sigh,  “It’s on the table, sweetheart,” he smirks, feeling proud about being the cause of the flustered girl in front of him. 

Your face was beet red as you silently made your way over to the small table that was sat by a window, all of the men in the room followed you with their eyes before all going to sit down at the table with you. Bucky sat down beside you and Steve and Sam sat across, both of them leaning forward and putting their elbows on the table. Bucky immediately let out a light cough and began shaking his head, a signal to his friends that they needed to undo their actions.

“she’s really picky about table manners,” He smiles, putting a comforting hand down on your thigh. 

“That’s alright, so why don’t you tell us about yourself? How long have you been... Friends with B-” “She’s my girlfriend Steve,” Bucky laughs loudly, “not completely a secret,” 

“He asked me last week,” you smiled down at your bowl of cheesy noodles, “Made a whole day of it and everything,” 

“I would have never thought that Bucky Barnes, the guy who use to get any girl he wanted, has finally found his anchor,” The grin on Steve’s face could only be described as an ecstatic one. He was so happy that his best friend had finally found his person, and a good one at that. 

“She’s mine alright, stuck with me forever,” Bucky grinned down at you and leaned in to place a soft kiss on your temple. 

“I’m okay with that though. It just means you’re mine too. My bunny,” 

It had been a good day, and you knew there were plenty of more to come with just you and your Bunny. 

[thestudyof5sos]

Now Accepting Applications (dad!ashton)

Summary: Ashton’s new to the building and his lifestyle disrupts his downstairs neighbor, Harper; but she’s in for a surprise when she bangs on his door in the middle of the night. Author: 🐾 @larryologymajor Fandon/Pairing: 5SOS / singledad!Ashton with baby girl x angry!neighbor Warnings/Tags: fluff, toddler Irwin, and kitties Word count: 1.9k Now Accepting Applications

Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.

The rhythmic whoosh and clicking of the ceiling fan in Skyler’s bedroom always lulled her sleep. It typically provided enough white noise to drown out ambient city noises and footsteps of the guy who lived in the flat above her. He was new to the building she thought, remembering the moving boxes heaped in the lobby last week. Prior to his arrival the flat had sat empty since Skyler had moved in last year and she was already lamenting its vacancy.

However, tonight was different. A siren wailed in the distance and Skyler’s ceiling fan wobbled precariously as her upstairs neighbor paced above her. At first the light footsteps thudded hollowly against the floor but over the past twenty minutes they’d become increasingly quicker, almost aggressive.

Skyler could never really hear voices or audible sounds coming from the flat above her, but the building was old; the floors and walls often creaked and groaned as if they were spilling out secrets. The minutes passed by and Skyler’s neighbor continued to pace. Occasional he’d hit a floorboard just right and her entire apartment would shake. Tonight she was convinced he was either walking the Indy 5000 around his flat or raising an elephant up there.

In the dark, Skyler squinted at the clock across the room. Without her glasses, she wasn’t 100% sure that she was reading the right numbers. She sighed and rolled over. It didn’t matter. It was getting later by the minute and she couldn’t sleep. She silently prayed that she’d fall asleep soon and wake up on time to catch her six am train; she had a long day ahead of her serving on a committee out of town for work.

Suddenly, the pacing stopped. Several long seconds ticked by. The night stilled and and Skyler let out a loud sigh of relief; she relaxed into her mattress and pulled the light throw blanket up to her chin. Skyler was seconds away from dozing off when she was jolted awake by the sound of a maniacal vacuum coming from the flat above her.

Desperate for sleep, she jumped out of bed angrily, determined to put a stop to the incessant noise coming from flat 304.

Skyler slid on a long sleeve tee over her pajama shorts and tank, stuffed her feet into flip flops, grabbed her eyeglasses, keys, and phone then marched out her door, down the hallway, and up the stairs.

Skyler approached his door and raised her hand in a fist to pound on the door but she stilled for a moment, afraid to wake his neighbors. Fuck it she thought and rapped three times on the door quite loudly. She stood there quietly for several heart beats, there was no answer. Just as she was about to rap again, the deadbolt flipped and the door slid open enough to see shadows.

Skyler launched into her verbal attack. “It’s after midnight! What the fuck are you vacuuming for??!! Some of us need to sleep! Including me, but I can’t. Because I hear you practically stomping around the flat all night long!”

The door opened the rest of the way and her mystery neighbor’s body slipped through the crack, gently nudging Skyler out of the way. He quickly checked the lock and gently closed the door. “Shut up before you wake her!” he hissed.

“Her??!” Skyler was pissed. She assumed he had female company.

The man’s hands came up to cradle his face. He rubbed at his own temples. Skyler looked him up and down. Even disheveled, he was gorgeous. And Skyler was breathless. His gray joggers rode low on his slim hips, feet bare, and white tee clung to his broad shoulders and sculpted arms in all the right ways. His fingers moved from his temples and carded through his unkempt and dirty ash brown curls. Finally, he looked at Skyler. His unblinking hazel eyes looked straight into hers and her heart skipped a beat. She had never felt eye contact this intense before.

“My daughter. She’s teething. I don’t think either of us have slept since we moved in last week,” he explained.

Skyler studied his face carefully; she could see the exhaustion and stress. “We’re still getting used to the single dad routine,” he added.

Skyler thinks her jaw dropped. “Oh,” she exhaled. “I’m so sorry. Here I am bitching and clearly you need help. I’m Skyler. I live in 204 right below you.”

“Ashton.” He extended a hand to shake it, but Skyler instinctively pulled him in for a hug. Ashton’s body stiffened against her arms but Skyler held on for a few more seconds anyway.

When she released him, she gave him a sheepish grin. “I’m so sorry. I’m a hugger by nature and I couldn’t resist. You looked like you needed human touch.”

Now it was Ashton’s turn to study Skyler. Her caramel hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. Even in the dimly lit hallway, he could see her green eyes were sparkling. It was a striking contrast from seconds ago when she was angrily banging on his door. Her plump, pink lips curved into a half smile.

Sapphire blue bra straps, or maybe tank top straps, he thought, were peeking out under a gray hooded tee. Matching blue shorts cut off at mid thigh leaving the rest of her legs and feet exposed. Ashton wanted to feel her touch again.

He chuckled. “I should be used to that. My best mate, Luke, is a total hugger too.” He looked at her through his eyelashes. “Maybe we can try that again?”

Was he flirting?! He didn’t know where that came from. Skyler giggled and extended her arms. Ashton stepped into her arms. When he felt her arms wrap around his shoulders he sighed and melted against her body. Instinctively his arms wound around her lower back and he gently guided her back against the wall; his brain shut off and without him thinking, his thumbs hooked over the waistband of her shorts, and he pushed his hips closer to hers. He rested his chin on the top of her head, a loose hair from her bun tickling his nose.

Skyler’s hands slid up his tightly muscled back. Her left thumb stroked at the soft spot behind his ear while her right hand found its way up his neck and began to card through the curls at the nape of his neck.

Ashton’s heart beat wildly in his chest. He didn’t know how, but this felt so intimate and he craved more. It had been almost a year since his fiancé left him alone and broken with a new baby. Over a year since he felt the warm embrace of a female body.

At the age of 32, Ashton’s heart was broken, left shattered on the floor by the love of his life who decided she wasn’t ready to be a mom, even after they spent hours and hours, days really, having lengthy discussions about their options when they found out they were pregnant.

However, when the baby arrived she decided she just couldn’t do it. She packed her things and left quietly; she didn’t have the strength to argue or attempt to explain herself.

Ashton barely functioned the first four months of his daughter’s life. He didn’t know where he would be if Luke wasn’t by his side. He wasn’t ready to be a single parent, or a heartbroken man. Dealing with both of those was an emotional rollercoaster Ashton never wanted to repeat. But his best friend was incredible. All of his close friends were incredible. Luke cleared his schedule and subleased his flat to a summer intern at his firm so he could temporarily move in with Ashton and newborn Evelyn.

The first ten weeks were the worst for Ashton as he tried to develop a new rhythm that included Evelyn. By then though, Luke recruited the remainder of their squad, Calum and Michael, to take turns checking in on the new family and helping out when they could.

When Ashton’s lease was up on the three bedroom flat he previously shared with his fiancé, he decided it was time to move into something smaller. Something more affordable. Something closer to Luke so he would have a big part of his support system near by but far enough for him to be independent so he could let Luke get back to his life.

Ashton was lost in thought when he felt Skyler shift in front of him. She gazed up at him and her fingers stilled, entwined in his hair, when he spoke. “It’s my turn to be sorry. I completely zoned out for a minute. I was thinking about this year. My fiancé left me with Evie when she was ten days old. This year has been strenuous and maddening but I wouldn’t change it for the world. And even with my best friends helping me every day, it’s been lonely. So lonely.”

Skyler’s eyes glistened, she was on the brink of tears for a man she’d known less than five minutes. His story was like the start of a Hallmark movie, she thought. She pulled him closer yet.

“Oh my gosh,” she blinked twice trying to clear her eyes. “I can’t even imagine what you’ve gone through but I can kind of relate. I split from my boyfriend of half a decade earlier this year when we decided we wanted different paths in life. It was an amicable split and we sometimes talk still. But I miss his touch. Maybe not even his touch, but touch in general. I miss having a warm body to snuggle into when I’m cold. I miss hugging and hand holding. I miss the intimacy of closeness.”

She didn’t know why but she felt like it was okay to open up to him too. Ashton gazed at her, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. “Well, I guess I could start taking applications for a cuddle buddy. Luke failed me in that department.”

Skyler’s grin mirrored his and she giggled. “I guess I could drop my resume off tomorrow after work!”

Ashton belly laughed and immediately slapped a hand over his mouth, afraid his laugh would wake Evie sleeping on the other side of the door. “You should probably bring a bottle of wine and a hearty appetite with your resume. I’ll see you at 7:30 tomorrow for your interview.”

Skyler stood on her tiptoes and brushed a feathery kiss across his stubbled jawline. “Goodnight Ashton.”

“Goodnight Skyler.” He stepped away from her and watched her walk down the hall. He retreated into the flat and and quietly entered the small study turned nursery adjacent to his room. He placed a kiss on his daughter’s forehead as she slept peacefully in her crib.

As he climbed into bed, Ashton tapped out a quick message to Luke. “I think I met someone.” Ashton closed his eyes, and for the first time in many weeks, he slept soundly.

One floor below him slept Skyler, finally asleep, dreaming about Ashton and his baby.

Want to be tagged? Let me know!

[iamcrimelord]

Blood Borne: Sanguine Ardente Chapter 1

Daigo made his way down the stairs with the church acolyte leading the way. He only had on small clothes at the moment but that was why they were heading to the tailor and armorer. He stepped into the room once they reached it and looked around. The wall was lined with silver swords, black and white articles of clothing, and a row of simple fire arms. He nodded and got to work. The acolyte left him and he got ready. He put on a pair of black slacks and knee high boots and socks. He then grabbed a belt with slots for holding bullets, vials, and other tools onto his waist to both hold up his pants, but to also insure he had supplies on hand. He then put on a black shirt, vest, long coat with shoulder cape, and also a wide brimmed hat. He put on good sturdy leather gauntlets as well that he sliced the fingers off of so he could have more dexterity with his fingers. He then grabbed a silver sword and sheath, and then grabbed a pistol that he then put into a holster that he grabbed. He now looked like a right proper member of the church. 

As he finished getting ready, Ludwig walked in. Daigo turned to look at the man and held out his arms. “Do I look respectable enough?” He asked with a coy grin. 

Ludwig nodded. “Yes, you certainly pass as a church member...though perhaps you may wish to actually join us someday?” 

Daigo burst into laughter. “No offense Ludwig, but my faith in holy men at the moment is very, very small. Because when push comes to shove, they’ll look out for number one every time.” 

Ludwig shook his head. “A pity that is how you see us. But perhaps in time our actions will speak for themselves.” 

Daigo drew his sword and gave it a few practice swings. “We’ll see. I’m not so jaded as to not give people a chance to show me that they’re better than what I’ve seen in the past.” he sheathes the sword and walks out of the room. “Having said that.....forgive me if I maintain my aloofness.” 

Ludwig nodded in agreement and the two men left the room and proceeded to head out of the building. It was a bit of a lengthy walk but in time they found themselves out in the streets, watching the city of Yharnum go about its daily business. As they walked, Ludwig began to explain more about the city. “This is Old Yharnum. The city’s oldest section. A rather lovely spot in the city with the most history. Its also home to the oldest cathedral in the city. Its a popular visiting spot.” 

Daigo looked around as the man spoke, seeing the old buildings, and people move. It was so peaceful it seemed amazing that there was any sort of beastly plague at all. “I like it. It has a very quaint charm to it.” 

Ludwig came to a stop at one of the doors that lined the street and opened it. “Here is where you will be staying.” He said as he walked in.

Daigo followed him in and was led up stairs of what he could now see was a boarding house. They went to the top floor and came to a large black door with the communion symbol of the healing church on it. “This is your room.” 

Daigo walked in and saw a cozy room with a large trunk, a work bench, a praying altar, a large number of books, and a beautiful view of the main square where the boarding house was at. He took out a cigarillo and lit it, taking a puff and inspecting the room closer. The bedroom was off the side of the main room and a wash room connected to the bedroom on the other side. Once he saw everything he looked to Ludwig. “So...when do I get to work?” He asked. 

Ludwig reached into his belt and pulled out a black pocket watch with a golden communion symbol on it, tossing it to him gently. Daigo caught it with his free hand. “That is a Hunter’s Watch. It will alert you when a night of the hunt starts.”

Daigo opened the watch and inside he saw your typical black clock face with golden roman numerals inside of it. Each arrow gold as well. On the underside of the front clip opposite the watch face was an inscription: Praise the Good Blood. He smirked at that little statement as it reminded him of times past. He attached the chain to his own belt and put the watch away. “And what am I to do in the meantime pray tell?” 

Ludwig leaned against the door frame. “Well, you are to be given a weekly allowance to use as you see fit of 100 gold coins. You can use it for food, weapons, supplies.....or if you so fancy....there are mmmm..... special ladies about town who offer other more..entertaining services.” He said in a straight manner. 

Daigo cocked a very skeptical brow. “Huh...usually religious groups tend to teach its members to stay away from that.” 

Ludwig shrugged. “For what we do...sometimes a good distraction is needed. At any rate, make yourself cozy. The Hunt starts three days from now.” 

Daigo nodded. “Then I’ll have to make sure I’m ready. I look forward to seeing this...beastly scourge of yours.” 

Ludwig grinned. “It will really get your blood pumping.” He then turned and left. 

Daigo took another puff of his cigarillo and then noticed a book on the work bench, A History of Yharnum. Daigo shrugged his shoulders and sat down. Deciding to learn about the history of the city. He sat down, flicked some ashes off the tip of his cigarillo, opened the book, and began to read. 

According to the book, the church had been here for a rather long time, almost a decade and a half. They first came to Old Yharnum when the city was suffering a plague of something called, Ashen Blood. A lot of people had been dying of the disease and there was no cure for it. But then the healing church appeared and began to administer blood healing to the populace which not only healed the sick, but made them even stronger than before. It was no surprise to Daigo then as he continued to read that the church eventually became the true power of the city and built many cathedrals, hospitals, clinics, and other such places all over the city to the point that it surrounded old yharnum and then grew outward. Turning a smaller city, almost a town really, into a metropolis of medical experimentation and progress. Its healing blood being hailed as a miracle from the gods. Now the whole city was dependent on the church’s blood healing for medical treatment, but also for the economy. Apparently blood is made in such high quantities here they mix it into their drinks, and women known as Blood Saints go about distributing vials of their own blood for charity purposes. Daigo looked out the window for a moment upon reading that and wondered if he had not been summoned to a city of vampires. But he shrugged and resumed reading. Certain businesses not of the church were also in the blood brewing business though instead of healing it was in the making of sweets, liqueurs, sauces, seasonings, and any other form of edible goods. Apparently the effects of their healing blood was intoxicating. Though it begged the question...how many people willingly gave up their blood? And even among the willing, do they check to see if they are diseased in anyway? This would be something Daigo would have to look into on the side. In fact, Ludwig said he had three days before the hunt started. That meant he had three days to do what he did best...dispensed the most thirst quenching forms of justice...Frontier Justice. 

His thoughts were disturbed however when he heard a very heavy knock on the door. He went and opened it, and to his surprise he saw a giant of a woman with long red hair tied in a pony tail. She looked down and said in a husky voice. “You Daigo?” 

Daigo nodded. “Indeed...and you are?” 

The woman responded, “Name’s Gratia. I’m gonna be your partner for the time being for nights of the hunt.” 

Daigo took a step back and looked her over more. She was clearly well muscled. Had quite a few scars on her knuckles as well as one on her lip. She had eyes as green as emeralds and on her hip hung a large hatchet. “well, would you like to come in?” He asked her. 

She shook her head. “Sorry, got places to be. Just wanted to stop by and get an eyeful of ya.” 

“And do you like what you see?”

“You’re a bit on the short side. I was told you were a real tough fighter but..then again people think I aint all that smart either.” 

“And are you?” He asked.

“Nah, not really. But,” She held up a first, on it was a lump of metal that had finger holes in it, obviously for punching things. “Brains don’t do a lot of good against a strong right hook.” 

Daigo could not help but chuckle in amusement. “On that we can certainly agree.” Oh he knew he was going to get along with this one. 

“Well, nice meeting you mate. See you on the night of the hunt.” 

He nodded and watched her go. Now that was certainly an interesting encounter. He closed the door and made his way to the window. He opened it to let in a bit of the cool evening air. Down below was a man selling meats. He could hear him crying out to come and buy his fine imported meats. He could hear the slice and dice of his meat cleaver and heard people doing business with him. He sat down in his chair and took off his belt, coat, and hat. He propped his feet up on the window sill and leaned back. Now this was the life. He thought. 

------------------------------------------

Meanwhile, not far from Daigo’s new home, someone watched him from afar with a spy glass. So...they had managed to summon the Pyromancer. That...was going to complicate matters...

[andie-vega-blog]

Drabble me this. 25/2/2019.

*1 New Voicemail* - Andie Vega 3:52am 45 Seconds Listen ►

“Mom? Mom… something bad happened. Something… I think I need to come home. I’m okay, I’m just… I know it’s late, I’m sorry. You’re probably asleep. I’ll call you tomorrow. I love you.”

*1 New Voicemail* - Andie Vega 5:00am 2 Minutes Listen ►

“I know I said I would call you tomorrow but I really don’t know what to do, mom. Something happened with Thomas and I don’t know if we’re going to get through it. Can I come stay with you guys for a few days? I know we didn’t exactly get off on the right foot the last time, but… I need you, mom. I need you guys. I think I might break… mom, I’m so scared. Please call me back when you get this. I love you. Tell dad I love him too.”

The word she had spoken the few days before rang in her ears and caused a defining silence as her eyes focused on the road in front of her. Andie had been driving for a few hours, taking the long road home to her parents, deciding that the fresh air might do her good. She was already a few hours behind due to the visit she had made to Thomas before she left - not only that, but the back of her car was now empty and void of the memories she had dumped on him before she left. Everything felt cold and distant. The warm sun that lit the dashboard of her car felt raw and hot and it made her uncomfortable - though at this point, everything seemed too. She had gotten into a very lengthy conversation with her parents over the phone the day she asked her boss for a leave of absence. It was mostly full of tears and whispered pleas, the lot of them making plans for Andie to come home for a few days to decompress. Who would have thought she would be going back to her childhood home to do such a thing? But honestly at this point in her life, it was the only place she felt safe - safe to be herself, safe to let all of her emotions out, safe to get her thoughts together. Her surroundings wouldn’t be cluttered with memories and distant echoes of broken promises. She could make do with the mundane tasks of helping her mother garden and aiding her father in fixing up his truck. She could let the monotony of a simple daily routine heal her soul and glue her broken heart back together should she be able to make it through the days without seeing the love of her life.

Did she still deserve to call him that? Probably not. Not after she had left him the way she did, despite the incident that had happened that fateful night. Andie knew that it wasn’t her Thomas who had done that, rather a Thomas she never got the chance to know - one that she questioned whether she wanted to know at all. It was a figment of a life he used to live and she couldn’t possibly hold that against him, even though the bruising on her neck was still visible if you knew where to look.

All of these thoughts plagued her mind until she pulled up to her parents house. Her father, a tall man, was standing outside in the driveway and waved her down when he saw her truck pull up.

The next few hours were a blur.

She hadn’t even bothered to grab her things from the back of her car as she went crumbling into her father’s arms, almost immediately breaking down in deep, wailing sobs. This went on for the majority of the night. Her throat had gone raw from the loud cries she exhaled, her audible sadness piercing the otherwise quiet home she once knew. Elizabeth had been taken up on the couch with her, holding her daughter as she explained everything that had happened through muffled weeping. There had been a blanket draped over the two of them at some point and some tea had been steeped for them to share. It felt like it had been a while since her parents had taken care of her the way they were on this night. The last time had been when she was in a much worse spot, but that didn’t make this time any easier. Her chest ached at how young and frail she felt crying in the arms of her mother. She had managed to explain the nightmare turned reality and the engagement ring she found. They offered her words of comfort and support, but even after everything they did for her, her whole body still felt raw and exposed.

Eventually they had gone to bed and Andie was left in the living room by herself. The television was muted, but the flashing screen was making colour dance across her retinas as she stared at it blankly. Her nimble fingers were playing with the ring that dangled between her breasts - her heart ached every moment she thought about how the proposal could have gone. Standing at the top of the lookout with her partner, joking to him the entire hike up there about how out of shape she was, not at all expecting to turn around and see him down on one knee. It would have broken her heart in the best way - but she had ruined that for them. It wouldn’t be the same even if they managed to make it through everything they were dealing with. The idea of how happy they were before that night made tears well up in her eyes.

Thomas Francis Weaver was the love of her life. She knew that they were meant to be together until they died - there was a certainty she felt about it that she hadn’t felt about anything in her life before. He was meant to hold her hand through their life together, build a family with her, build a life with her - both of them knew this. They felt it so strongly as it had been a long time coming. The connection they had was unique and rare and made Andie feel warm all over.

But now? Now it just hurt. And to make matters worse she had read the letter the man wrote for her. It detailed a life she so desperately wanted to have with her partner, one that she questioned now - only because she didn’t know what their future looked like. It had made her sob so deeply that she had to cover her mouth in fear of waking up her stressed parents. Admittedly, Andie had hauled herself up in the living room wearing the t-shirt Thomas had given her when her things were returned. It still smelled like him and even though it wasn’t clean, she refused to wash away the memories and promises that clung to its edges. It was nearing the time when the sun would rise and as Andie finally let herself lay her head down, the heaviness that clouded her brain dissipated only slightly. She held the letter in front of her face and let herself read it over and over again, hoping to send herself to sleep with dreams of a better, happier life. And that was exactly what she got. She let herself enjoy a sleep filled night full of warm dreams about herself and Thomas and the life they would build together if everything ended up working out for them. In the back of her mind she ached at the idea that they would remain only dreams, but honestly? She would take that if it meant stepping out of her own reality and into a figment of her imagination that made her feel more alive than she did in the real world.

[hxh-secretsanta-2017]

from :@chaasiu​

for @readbooksandweep​ who asked for a leopika soulmate au involving colour. thank you for all the asks you've sent me throughout the month, and happy holidays!

There’s something special about a person’s eyes that captivates Leorio—and not just in the scientific sense where light rays enter the cornea, diverge at the lens, and an image registers in the brain. It’s the fact that people are always looking, always searching, despite this world being so dull and grey. How people still manage to hold onto hope even when the statistics are against them.

And they’re not at fault, not really, because Leorio often catches himself doing the same. He allows curiosity to take over him, questioning every person he passes by on the streets: Is it them? Could this person be my soulmate?

The answer, he knows, is almost always a no. Because the world is kind and cruel at the same time—his soulmate will only reveal themselves to him when the time is right, and before that time comes, he will continue to be blind.

So, for now, he tries to enjoy his days in the colourless.

As a man nearing his thirties, Leorio Paladiknight has found himself a stable job at a small clinic in the city. He spends his days helping out other citizens in the best way he knows how and while he is frequently put in high-stress situations, the friendly atmosphere between the physicians and patients makes it more than worth it.

His client today is a friend and it’s starting to become concerning just how often Leorio sees him here at work.

“Hold still, Gon,” he says as the younger boy squirms in his seat, wincing as Leorio carefully applies disinfectant to the cut on his leg. “You really have to be more careful next time, got it?”

“I will!” Gon agrees enthusiastically and Leorio only sighs because he wouldn’t be surprised to see him back at the clinic next week. Recklessness is in Gon’s blood.

Off to the side of the room, Kurapika watches the scene play out in silent amusement. Beside him, Killua’s eyes are flickering all over, from the door to the posters on the wall to the cabinets full of medical equipment. He seems to be micro-analyzing everything which strikes the doctor as odd considering there’s nothing around them that he hasn’t seen many times before. Then again, Killua has always been a weird kid.

Bringing his focus back to Gon, Leorio asks, “How did you get this injury, anyway?”

The grin he receives is so wide that it seems to split open the brown-haired boy’s face as he physically bounces in excitement. “We went to the park to try out the new skateboard Killua got recently and I was going down this path when the world just—exploded with colour.” His arms are spread out, mimicking a hose spraying water. “It’s like, suddenly, everything was complete and I could finally see the other half the world that was missing. I guess it shocked me so much that I lost control of the skateboard and fell off.”

It’s not the fact that Gon has found love and Leorio hasn’t that weaves a sting of jealousy in his heart; it’s the uncertainty that he might never get to experience the full effect of colours that he truly envies. The tone Gon uses to describe the whole situation almost makes the doctor want to believe in magic.

“So, you can see more than just blue now?” He has to know.

Gon nods vigorously.

“And you can see more than just green?” He turns to Killua, still partially in disbelief.

The white-haired boy holds a secretive smile. “Yeah.”

And thinking back to just a few minutes ago when Killua had been looking around the room as if seeing it all for the first time, Leorio supposes that this is all new to him. Because that’s how it starts, or so Leorio’s been told. The first colour you see is the colour that’s most closely associated with your soulmate. Then, for the next few days, weeks, months, years, the rest of the world is still grey until everything else fills in.

“Wow,” he breathes out, and wonders what he would give up just to experience all that for himself.

When he finishes tending to Gon’s wound, he leads his friends out to the hallway and walks them to the entrance of the clinic, mind still spinning with all this new information. Just as they’re about to leave, Killua turns around and shouts, “Hey, old man, when will you finally find your soulmate? At this rate, by the time you actually find them, you really will be an old man!”

Leorio gestures to shoo him out of the clinic and he really wouldn’t be Killua if he didn’t piss off Leorio at least once every day. “Yeah, yeah, just get out of here, you brat!”

As he turns around to fill out some forms, Kurapika is a relaxing and welcoming presence at his side. Unlike the younger boys, Leorio has always looked forward to the blond’s visits, however rare they are.

“It’s truly amazing, isn’t it?” Kurapika laments thoughtfully.

Leorio hums in agreement. Gon and Killua had met as kids, then grew to become best friends, and now soulmates. They’ve told them of the time they had gone fishing at a lake, Gon leaning back to cast out the bait into the water and almost falling in because the entire body of water before him had lit up in a dazzling shade of blue. When he turned around, he saw that Killua’s eyes were the same colour.

At the same moment, Gon’s pants had turned obnoxiously green, as the white-haired boy had expressed it. The grass beneath their feet was a similar hue and it was then that Killua began to question Gon’s fashion sense. In a way, the vibrancy of the colour matched Gon’s outgoing personality perfectly.

Leorio glances over at his friend and wishes he could see what colours make up Kurapika, where the lighter shades of his skin fall and the where the blend of light paints over his clothing and how much more beautiful he’d look outside of the greyscale.

“Do you think you’ll ever meet your soulmate?” he asks, and watches as Kurapika furrows his eyebrows in deep thought.

“I’d hope so,” the blond says eventually, a gentle smile on his face when he looks up at Leorio. “I think we’re all subconsciously searching, anyway.”

And the doctor nods, because it’s true. He continues to think about it that night, long after Kurapika has left and the clinic closes for the day, and discretely wonders if he would still want to find his soulmate if it meant that he wouldn’t be with Kurapika.

.

What Leorio knows: over the past few years since meeting Kurapika, he’s developed something akin to a crush on the Kurta. He’s denied it to himself for a long time and it’s pathetic because it’s so unlikely that they’re soulmates, but it’s not just something that he can control. Sometimes, he thinks he’d even be okay with never seeing colours at all if it means he could have a happy ending with Kurapika.

What Leorio wishes people told him: the colours come because you find love, not because they make you fall in love.

.

Kurapika’s house is effortlessly clean. It never fails to impress Leorio when he stops by for a visit and sees that every single item has its place in the rooms. Unlike his own home, where stray pieces of clothing somehow end up all over chairs and couches and loose papers reside on the floor more often than in folders or on a shelf, Kurapika actually maintains a tidy household.

Entering through the doorway, Leorio slips off his shoes and mutters without really thinking, “I should hire you to clean my room.”

The other boy raises an eyebrow at this, the corners of his mouth lifting upward. “Oh? My services are expensive, you know. I doubt you’d be able to afford it.”

“What a cruel friend.” Leorio feigns hurt.

Letting out a quiet laugh, Kurapika gestures at him to take a seat in the living room. “Would you like a drink? Although I only have tea to offer.”

“Sure, tea is fine.”

As the blond walks over to the kitchen, Leorio makes himself comfortable on the couch. It’s been far too long since he’s last visited, truthfully. Between his lengthy shifts at the clinic and Kurapika’s own busy schedule, the two of them rarely have a day off at the same time to hang out. He’s missed this—this calm and relaxing atmosphere that seems to settle around them when it’s just the two of them alone.

The sound of an alarmed shriek followed by the shattering of glass has Leorio jerking his head up in time to see Kurapika jump a foot back from where he had been standing. His hands are clasped around his mouth, body backed up against the wall in fear.

Immediately, adrenaline kicking in, Leorio runs over and sees the cup Kurapika had been holding earlier broken on the floor. Turning to the blond who is visibly shaking, he asks, “What is it? What’s wrong?”

Kurapika only manages to raise an arm and point at the counter in front of him, stammering out incoherencies, eyes wide. Following his line of sight, Leorio glances over and sees a small spider crawling on the marble surface. It all makes sense, then, when he remembers Kurapika telling him about spiders triggering a response in him; something about his parents and the loss of his childhood friend and how he’s never really been able to get over it completely.

Working quickly, Leorio disposes of the spider and returns to the blond’s side. He watches, helpless, as Kurapika sinks down to the cold tiled floor and curls up within himself, gasping softly every now and then.

“Breathe,” Leorio instructs, voice quiet but firm. “It’s okay, just breathe.”

He holds Kurapika in his arms, trying to provide any amount of reassurance he can as the younger boy shakes with a force Leorio’s never seen before, a state of vulnerability that’s completely foreign to him.

“I-I’m sorry,” Kurapika says finally, as if choking the words out forcefully, breathing still uneven. The doctor can tell that he’s trying his hardest to compose himself again.

And Leorio shakes his head, replying with the one thing he believes most in his heart. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

It’s when the tears start flowing and Kurapika feels truly and utterly broken that he asks, “How do you think my soulmate would react if he saw me like this, freaking out over a tiny insect?” The question causes a bitter laugh to escape his lips, face still hidden in his arms as if he’s too embarrassed to raise his head. “How can anyone love me, Leorio?”

And Leorio holds him tighter, rubbing soothing circles on the younger boy’s back, wishing that he could take away emotional pain like how he stitches up physical injuries at the clinic. He wants to say, even if they don’t love you, I will; wants to say, I don’t need the colours to see that you’re amazing; wants to say, I’ll always be here for you—if you’ll let me.

He wants to say so many things but swallows the words back down because that’s not how their world works and Kurapika is not his to love.

Instead, Leorio leans forward to rest his lips on top of the younger boy’s hair. Closes his eyes and murmurs, “Your soulmate is a fool if they don’t realize how lucky they are.”

.

His hand is steady, experienced, as he uses a pair of tweezers to delicately remove the stinger from skin before pressing an ice pack to the swollen area. “There you go,” Leorio tells his client. “Bee stings can be a pain but you don’t seem to have an allergic reaction, so it shouldn’t take long to heal.”

Ponzu, a young girl who happens to wear a pink shirt and a large hat, smiles at him appreciatively. “Thanks for your help. I’m also sorry for getting a little bit of red on you,” she says, pointing at the smudge of blood staining the bottom of Leorio’s shirt, most likely caused by having brushed against her arm when the stinger was being removed. He hadn’t even noticed it until she brought it to his attention, and hadn’t noticed her wording until he looks down, expecting to see grey, and instead sees—

“Oh,” she exclaims, noticing the expression on his face and misunderstanding, “what I meant is that I accidently smeared some blood on your shirt. You’re still colourblind, aren’t you?”

Is he? Leorio stares at the spot on his clothes, mystified. Is he still colourblind, or is this…?

Red, the logical part of his mind supplies him. Blood is red.

“Doctor?”

At the sound of Ponzu’s voice, he snaps out if it and quickly composes himself. “Right, sorry. Don’t worry about the stain, it’s nothing that can’t be washed out.” He tries to give his patient a smile through the pounding in his head as he goes to one of the drawers to take out a small bottle. “These painkillers will help with the aching and the swelling should fade away within a week.”

“Thank you.” She accepts the medicine gratefully. Her gaze stays on him for a few moments longer as if she has something else to say, but she simply bows politely before exiting the room.

Now alone, Leorio takes the time to confirm his suspicions. He looks around the room and sees certain objects pop out at him: the (not-grey) pen he’s used so often that lies on the desk, the (not-grey) first aid kit on a shelf in the corner, one of the (not-grey) chairs off to the side. They’re not grey and he sees, really sees them for the first time, and thinks, holy shit.

His next thought is: I have to tell Kurapika.

Before Leorio even realizes what he’s doing, he’s already making his way out the door, well aware that he’s still in the middle of his shift and not caring in the slightest. As he runs the three blocks to Kurapika’s house, it’s like he’s a newborn again experiencing everything for the first time. Different parts of the world light up before him, from the leaves that are just beginning to change colour to a few of the cars passing by on the street, all delightfully, magnificently, undeniably red.

He’s out of breath when he finally rings Kurapika’s doorbell and still trying to get oxygen into his system when Kurapika opens the door.

“Leorio?” the younger boy asks, visibly surprised. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be at work?”

Through his wheezing, he’s somehow able to make out a few sentences. “I just—I was working with a patient and she had some blood on her arm and, like, I almost messed up the treatment procedure because I could see it. I could see the colour. Red.”

Kurapika only manages to blink as Leorio bounces on his feet, words coming out in a stream of excitement.

“It’s—it’s so vibrant and bright and dark at the same time and I can’t even describe it, Kurapika, but I had to come and tell you. It’s just beautiful.” He only stops to catch his breath and freezes when he notices— “It’s… the same colour as your eyes.”

There’s a moment of stillness before the blond finally clears his throat and shifts around almost nervously, taking the pause in Leorio’s words to speak up. “Actually, just now, I think I also caught a glimpse of… colour.”

It feels like an eternity that they stand at the doorway unmoving, shocked into silence and staring at each other because this—this can’t be a coincidence. Leorio feels it deep inside him, a confirmation in his very soul that his speculations are correct, even if it all seems too good to believe.

“No way,” he whispers. “It’s you.” He takes a step back as if re-evaluating the whole situation. “This whole time, it’s been you.”

Kurapika smiles tentatively, like he gets it but doesn’t entirely understand. “I suppose this means that we’re… soulmates?”

Everything is still reeling in his head, but the word soulmates resonates with Leorio now in a way that it never did before. He nods slowly in reply, not able to fully take it in yet, but he finds himself moving closer to the younger boy; closer and closer until he brings their lips together and somehow, it’s like the world burst into colour in that moment despite the monochrome of greys still surrounding him.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that,” he says when they break apart.

There’s a light blush of red—red that he can actually see now, red that is faint and just barely there but still definitely noticeable—on Kurapika’s cheeks as he looks up at him almost shyly. “Me too.”

They’re quiet for a few minutes, letting their brain catch up with their hearts. “So, what colour did you see?”

“Brown.”

Leorio wrinkles his nose. “Brown? The colour I’m associated with is brown?” He’s heard that brown is dark and murky, like the dirtied water of swamps and the mud that gets stuck to the bottom of boots, none of which seem particularly appealing. Killua had once mentioned that it was also the colour of shit.

Kurapika laughs gently at his reaction. “It’s a strong and solid colour, a reliable foundation like the bark on trees. You’ll see when it comes. I think it suits you perfectly.”

And the older man leans in for a kiss again because he thinks he’s more than okay with being brown if it means getting to be with Kurapika.

.

(“Shouldn’t you be getting back to work though?”

“Ah! Fuck, you’re right,” Leorio mutters, scrambling to straighten his hair and make himself presentable. He half-runs, half-trips down the path for a few steps before stopping and turning around to blow Kurapika a kiss as dramatically as possible.

The Kurta only shakes his head despite the smile lingering on his lips.)

.

Leorio has always been fascinated by a person’s eyes. They’re the first point of contact that light rays hit to let you observe the world. They’re what allows him to see red, to see the rest of the colours when they eventually come in time.

Kurapika tells him that his eyes are warm and inviting and that they display the full effect of just how generous he is. Brown like hot chocolate and smooth caramel and the determination that paints over him when he’s focused on work at the clinic.

Gon describes Killua’s eyes as if they contain oceans in their little round orbs, washed over in a brilliant shade of blue. When he’s angry, the white-haired boy can throw fiery tides at you with just one look. In the intimate spaces shared with only Gon, they are gentle and calm, as if stroking seashells on the shore.

When Leorio himself looks at Kurapika’s eyes, he is overwhelmed by kindness. He can feel the blond’s thoughtful nature touching everything that he lands his gaze on, a true and genuine love for the things he cares about, even in the greyscale. There is compassion hidden behind each glance and unconditional support for those he admires.

Leorio has always been fascinated by a person’s eyes, but he thinks that the way Kurapika’s glow a bright scarlet colour is the best by far.

[dynoguard]

NaNoWriMo: Return of the DinoKnights (Day 3)

Day 1 & 2 text is here.

Jason’s ears were ringing.

He was leaning against the side of the limousine door. The vehicle was tilted toward the driver’s side. The window safety glass sagged inward, the shards held back by the inner plastic coating. Daylight streamed against his face from the opposite side of the cabin.

“Jason, wake up, I need you to wa-” His father’s voice broke through the ringing and the world started to come into focus. 

“Dad?” 

“Thank goodness.” Sagan whispered as he turned his son’s head gently, checking for injuries.

“I think I’m okay.” Jason blinked. ”Aunt Susie?”

“Right here Shortstack.” His aunt Susie leaned in through the opened door. “You’re going to be okay.” 

Sagan helped Jason unbuckle his seatbelt and slide out of the disabled car. Once free, Jason could see the limousine had remained mostly in place, but it was smashed and twisted, with its tires burst, windows shattered and the driver’s side partially buckled under.

“What happened.” James said, staring at the wreck he just came out of. “What hit us?”

“If I had to guess.” His father said. “That did.”

He pointed to the building they had driven up to see. The Observatory still stood, but adjacent to the cantral telescope stood a tower of dull gray stone. It was as thick as the observatory dome and went up six or seven stories by Sagan’s estimate. The top of the tower seemed to curve away from them, as though it lead to an observation deck that, at the moment, lay hidden behind the tower’s mass.

The tower wasn’t built onto the observatory, but seemed to have been slipped inside it. On every surface where the building and the tower touched, growths of six-sided blue-green crystals sprouted like grass grown through a cracked sidewalk.

The ground and road were also cracked, and in those cracks flecks of crystal sparkled in the fading daylight.

Jason turned to the adults. Gloria Anning seemed none the worse for wear, outside of mussed hair and a torn sleeve. Aunt Sue was wrapping her right ankle in a handkerchief from her purse, but otherwise seemed unharmed. They’d been lucky. There was another man with them, the driver, Jason surmised. He was middle aged, with graying hair and a bandaged nose. 

“No signal.” Suzanne said. 

“No surprise there. We had to put our own tower up out here.” Gloria pointed to a portion of the gray tower. A chunk of cell phone tower connected two overhangs, nests of green crystals on both ends. 

“Where’d it come from?” Jason asked. 

“The crystals.” Gloria said. “It grew, perhaps?”

“Maybe. “ Sagan said, rolling the possibilities around in his head. “But it was instantaneous, the force that hit the car could have been the air and earth it displaced.” 

“If I could interject, Mrs. Anning?” The graying driver spoke up.

“Of course Steven.” 

“I don’t have any major bruises or broken bones, I’ll head down the mountain, get help once I can get a signal.” 

Gloria walked over to him and handed him a phone from her pocket, and one of the bottled waters from the limousine. “The unlock code is 7422, call Grady in the phonebook, explain the situation to him. Ask for Medical Team Blue from my clinic. Blue.” 

Steven nodded solemnly, and put the phone in his jacket pocket. He doffed his cap in an old-fashioned sort of way, and began down the cracked pavement back down the mountain. 

“No... but the building was close to opening. There should be at least four on site, the insurance requires it.” Suzanne said. 

“Then we’ll need to go get them. Sagan, you’re with me.”

“I can’t leave my son here.” Sagan responded.

“Suzanne can’t walk in her state and she shouldn’t be left alone.” Gloria responded. “ So either we all wait here, or two of us go and two of us stay.”

“Dad!”

The three adults turned, Jason had walked a short distance away, along the edge of the grounds. Sagan and Gloria followed, their eyes on the odd curve of the tower at the top as they went. As they moved, they could see the tower wasn’t curving into a platform or room. It was a sculpture, made from the same gray stone as the tower. The style was sleek, the figure rendered in motion, head thrust forward, eyes wide with anticipation, mouth open in a bellowing roar.

“Is that a T-Rex?” Sagan asked. 

---

There was a clap of thunder followed by darkness and the sensation of hitting a metal floor.

Sheriff Horne stretched her hands out, and lifted herself from the ground. The room was entirely black, but she could hear the others cry out as they hit the ground as well. She fumbled for a table or console, and slowly rose to her feet.

Her body ached, she felt tired, like she hadn’t eaten or slept for day. 

She took a deep breath, and shouted as loud as she could. “Linn!”

“I’m right here mom.” Linn groaned. 

Slowly, a few lights flickered on, the illumination going dim. Kyle was standing up, slowly, next to a wall of stone that was where his console had been. The front edge of the console was still there, and the whole wall sparkled with tiny crystals. Zara was still unconscious, but was still breathing.

“What happened? Did that... thing hit us?” Horne half-spoke, half-shouted. 

“Hi, Mrs. Horne, I’m Kyle, your daughter has been a great intern by the way.” Kyle said, a vague shape in the flickering lights. “We’re still alive, which means Rachus and Hurlant’s theory was right! You can expand a separation field through an existing framework, in this case the power grid-”

“Kyle.” Horne said.

“-which means it’s just been a blink for us, but the meteor impact will be healed by now-”

“Kyle!” Horne shouted.

“Kyle, your arm.”

Kyle looked down at his left arm, the one he had used to throw the switch to activate the mechanism.The limb stopped a hand’s breadth from the top of the shoulder, the wound was perfectly smooth, with a slight concave curve to the cut. Strangely, it did not bleed, the wound seemingly cauterized despite the flesh appearing all but untouched. 

“Oh. I’m in shock.” Kyle blinked. “That makes sense.”

Kyle slumped into his chair. He idly raised his remaining hand to his head. The horn just above his ear-hole had been severed like his arm. A few more inches and whatever it was would have taken a chunk of brain. 

“Mom, there’s a medical clinic in section 3.” Linn said. “Even on skeletal staff there will be a doctor.” 

“Good thinking, Sweetie.” Sheriff Horne said, squatting down to look into her daughter’s eye. “I need you to watch the other one until I get back. The Rescue Orders are on the street already, help is on the way.”

“Sure, mom.” Linn said. A half second later, she continued. “Be careful.”

Sheriff Horne helped Kyle to his feet, letting the larger scientist lean on her for support. “C’mon Kyle, just gotta make it to medbay.” 

They rounded the corridor marked 3, disappearing into the flickering darkness.

And after a short moment, a single voice rang out.

“Oh no.”

Zara was beginning to get her feet, as Linn bounded past her, a rush of feathers, claws and tail,after her mother’s shocked cry.

A short distance into the tunnel, she recognized the problem.

Instead of a lengthy corridor lit with the emergency lights and lined with windows to the outside, there was a stone wall, sheared smooth and perfect as polished glass. Strange blue-green crystals lined the edges of the stone and the synthetic stone construction of Science Tower One.

“Where’s Section Three?” Linn gasped.

“The better question is ‘where are we?’“ Zara said from the corridor doorway. 

--

The observatory’s lights ignored the flick of the light switch by the entrance. Without other options, Sagan and Gloria navigated their way through the building by flashlight. The central hallway was now half as wide as it ought to be, a section of gray stone wall from the strange tower intersecting the passage. 

“Two building trying to occupy the same space.” Gloria observed. 

“And the crystals?.

��Not sure... that’s why man invented laboratories.” She reached into her jacket pocket and withdrew a multi-tool, flipping through blades until she found a thick screwdriver suitable for use as a chisel. “Little souvenir.” 

She struck the tool against the base of one of the smaller lumps of crystal. The crystal did not budge, but at the point of impact the crystal flared with a blue-green light, one that rippled through all the crystals in the seam. Gloria snatched her hand back, shaking it, but she did so a few moments later than Sagan thought normal and the shake started weirdly slow before accelerating back to normal speed.

“It shocked me!” She said. “They’ve got piezoelectric properties.”

“It didn’t just shock you. You slowed down, like you were in slow motion, after you hit it.”

“Fascinating.” She said. “Its a bad idea to hit that again, isn’t it.”

“Probably.”

“Thought so. We’ll get a full science team down here once everyone is safe. Hit everything properly.” She said. “You’re signing a very hefty NDA about all of this, you realize.”

“That depends entirely on what we see.” Sagan said, firmly. “And you can’t threaten me.”

“Sorry, I’m blunt, your cousin thinks its a syndrome but my teachers all said I was rude.” She paused. “What I mean to say... is we’re going to make sure you’re so happy with how this turns out, you won’t mind signing the very hefty NDA.” 

“We’ll work that out later, look at this.” Sagan shined his flashlight at a section of wall starting three feet above the floor. A hole, about 2 feet wide, was cut out of the tower’s strange stone wall, as though a spherical section inside was missing. Everything within the spherical space was from the observatory, including part of a desk and a section of filing cabinet, which had collapsed into the floor. The result was a gap, allowing entry into the strange building.

“A way in.” Gloria smiled wide.

“We’re heading to get a medical kit.” Sagan replied. “Exploring the amazing appearing tower can wait.”

“Don’t worry, I’m just going to take a quick look.” She said, and began climbing up through the hole into the adjoining space. She slipped halfway through, then tumbled through the hole with a surprised yelp, followed by a series of thuds, and then silence.

“Gloria. Mrs. Anning!” Sagan shouter. “This... I get you’re eccentric but this is over the line.” 

There was no response.

“I swear, if you’ve killed yourself I am not going to jail for this.” He stood in place, listening for some reaction. None came.

“I already regret this.” Sagan said, stooping to put his head through the hole in the wall. The light of the flashlight caught a glimpse of a column of gray skin and the hint of an immense, living shape before a hand as large as his body grabbed Sagan James and pulled him into the dark room beyond.

He had never hated being right so much in his life.

[human-redesigned-rp]

Premonition--Cleo/Aurora

A stranded girl is offered a lifeline. She has not realized the price she paid for it.

Cleo

The final days of January usually brought Cleo a sense of relief. Spring was just a few short weeks away, inching her ever close to a climate in which she could stop agonising about whether she could afford to put the heating on. People getting their January pay and going out more meant more hours for her at the coffee shop. The days grew longer and brighter, injecting a small sense of cheer into the air - a sense of hope for the year ahead.

Tonight, though, she thought of none of those things. Honestly, she could barely think at all. The eviction notice, read and crumpled and smoothed and reread and crumpled again, was stuffed into her threadbare backpack, the ink booming with accusations of one lay rent payment too many. On the back of it, she’d scrawled a list of support numbers that the benefits office had half-heartedly given her only after she’d insisted tearfully that there was nobody she could stay with. She was alone.

“That’s the problem,” the man had told her, with the air of someone explaining why pears had gone up in price. “You’re a single adult. There’s a waiting list, but it’s families with kids first, you know? And at this time of year there’s a lot more emergencies to place. You’ll find a lot of those charities on that list will be full too, I’m afraid.”

He’d dismissed her, with a somewhat uncomfortable insistence that there must be someone she could go and stay with, and said that she would receive a phone call when there was a flat or even a hostel placement available for her. That it could be a while.

Cleo was quite sure that ‘a while’ was longer than her mobile’s battery life.

She hadn’t been quite ready to go home yet - not to start packing. Not to start thinking about what kind of life faced her now. Not to consider sleeping in doorways, washing in public bathrooms, and scrounging for plug sockets in public libraries in the sad, distant hope that something might become available for her but probably not. Not to make haphazard plans for personal safety. Instead she’d walked and walked until, somewhere on Pancras Road, her feet had begun to ache and her ears stung with the cold and she’d headed into King’s Cross Station to sit down and get warm.  She hadn’t yet managed to stir up any will to get up again and head home.

She pulled the notice out of her bag again and read the numbers on the back, her phone in hand. As she heaved a deep sigh, the round wall lights on either side of the bench she was sitting on flickered and sputtered out. “That’s just lovely,” she mumbled to herself, eyes still fixed on the paper as she wondered which one would be most likely to have a space for her.

Aurora

Aurora adjusted her bag of groceries, hoisting it up onto her hip. She stood at the end of the platform. In a few minutes, the train would come. Her clinic was not far but her arms were beginning to ache and the train would save her a couple of minutes and allow her arms to rest. Her distant gaze wandered over the other travelers in limbo, all waiting for something to carry them away from their dull waiting and give their lives purpose. Soon they would all leave this place and this strange, lingering moment in-between would be over.

As she was staring blankly across the room, the wall lights surrounding the far bench all simultaneously wavered, then died. Hmm, she thought, that's odd. The girl sitting in the dark clutched a crumpled paper in her hands. Long, dark spirals of hair fell over her face. Aurora's head tilted to the side curiously. The girl looked familiar.

Her free hand dug into the pocket of her baggy jacket to fish out her goggles. As she powered them up, the goggles glowed with a soft white light. She lifted a single lens over her eye. The internal screen system exploded with data. She flicked a switch with her fingertip. The display changed to a cool blue. At first, a lengthy string of code spilled over her vision as she examined the girl on the distant bench. The code strung itself into a line, that then formed into a ladder-like chain of DNA. The coil of genetic material lit up with patches of trigger genes sewn into its fabric. The genes radiated green. They had been activated. The girl was one of hers.

Aurora adjusted her groceries again. Her arm screamed for rest. She grimaced, tucked her goggles back away in her pocket, and approached the bench. She sighed with relief when she set down the heavy bag at the foot of the bench. With a tired grunt, she settled onto the cold, stone seat. She eyed the young woman quietly, the ragged paper and the unused cell phone. From up close, she could better see the silent panic hovering darkly on the girl's face.

Aurora set a gentle hand on the young woman's shoulder. "It's Cleo, right?" Her voice was low and even, tinged with a slight unusual accent. "I'm Doctor Vega," she offered, in case Cleo had forgotten. "How are you feeling? You look a bit..." She pursed her lips together as she pondered her choice of words. "Not good." She folded her hands in her lap, readied to simply listen.

Cleo

Cleo's eyes scanned the paper, picking out the names of one or two charities that seemed to be female-specific. She wasn't particularly sure that she had the capacity right now to find herself in a mixed shelter - another thing to add to the pile of worry and fear that she wasn't sure she could carry. The flat, gone. Her job, in jeopardy now that she had no home in which to wash her uniform or even herself, for that matter. The dense, inescapable loneliness that came with the realisation that she had nobody to call for her. The fifty pounds, saved so preciously from pawning her old battered piano in a little envelope inscribed with PIANO MONEY in neat block capitals, handed meekly over in the end to the landlord to whom she still owed a debt.

She'd kept the envelope.

The disappearance of the lights had already been dismissed from her mind, unimportant. Her surroundings, altogether, barely existed to her in that moment. It was for this reason that she hadn't noticed anyone approaching until she'd felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, and her eyes met a somewhat familiar face.

For a moment, while the women spoke, Cleo stared at her in confusion as she tried to place her. A slight build, with mid-length brown hair and a serious, yet kind face. Almost remarkable in her lack of any remarkable traits that might help Cleo to narrow it down, except for the unusual accent that she didn't quite recognise.

"I'm Doctor Vega."

Of course. The doctor from that strange clinic. If Cleo hadn't gotten treated there, she'd have been forced to spend even longer away from her job, owed her landlord an ever bigger debt in unpaid rent. She managed a small smile.

"Hello again," she said, glancing down at the paper again. "I have to admit that I've had nicer evenings," She tucked her phone back into her pocket as she blinked back tears, before an idea struck her.

"Um, you... you probably know a tonne more about health and social services out there than I do," she began, her words feeling awkward and misplaced as her mouth moved faster than her brain in a mad dash for something - anything - that would help her work out what to do next. "I've, um - I'm getting evicted and..." She held out the sheet of paper. "Do you by any chance know which of these is my best bet? The man at the housing office didn't have a lot of time..."

Aurora

A meek smile lit up Cleo's worry-darkened features. It was... uninspiring. The slight twinkle of unshed tears hung at the corners of her wide, dark eyes. Aurora nodded, a common way to express sympathy among humans, though she said nothing. She found that most would explain themselves to her with very little prodding necessary. All she had to do was offer up a listening ear. A sharp eyebrow arched with curiosity when the girl spoke of social services. Yes, unexpected changes were happening. The dying lights only one of many.

Small, nimble hands took the crumpled sheet of paper. She read over the names and numbers in silence for a split second. "These places won't help you. I'm sorry. They are crowded, and their resources are limited." It was only a slight exaggeration. She had looked into each one as she researched how to build her own shelter, and that was precisely what they were--crowded, dirty, and limited. Aurora had made a special effort to correct those problems in her own youth hostel.

She lifted her gaze from the battered paper to meet Cleo's eyes once again. Little fingers brushed a dangling strand of silky brown hair from her eyes. "Where is your home? Is it far?" Her flat voice softened at the despair that shadowed the poor girl's eyes. "There is space at the hostel above my clinic. It's still so new, most people haven't added it to their lists yet, so we always have room." She waved the useless page in the air with a small, humorous smile. "I've got most of your information already, so it'll be a breeze to get you registered. If you want, I can call ahead and have Dean reserve a bed for you while we arrange a place to store your belongings." Her smile widened sweetly. "You're going to be okay, Cleo."

Cleo

Cleo's heart sank at the Doctor's words. She'd had an awful feeling that the man at the housing office might be right - that between the state of the economic climate, the horrific weather driving people off the streets and into shelters and the rise in relationship breakdowns and debt at this time of year, she had a poor chance of finding somewhere to stay.

"It's in Ferrier," she mumbled, but her ears pricked up when Dr. Vega mentioned the hostel above the clinic. When she thought back, she did have a vague memory of some signage about a hostel when she'd been there, but honestly she'd assumed it was a hostel more in a cheap place for  students and backpackers to stay sort of way rather than, well, the kind of place that she needed. Same as her reservations with the clinic itself, really - the place seemed too nice.

"You're not serious, are you?" she breathed. She barely dared to hope that she might have just accidentally stumbled on somewhere safe to stay. But something about the young woman's expression made it clear that this was no joke. Her eyes stung again, but with something different than before: the rush of relief that came with barely-believed hope. "Oh, God. You're serious. You're being serious." She barely noticed the flickering lights above her as she tried to find the right words to say in the thick fog of fear and heartbreak and guilt and failure that had been this day. Nothing measured up to the gratitude she felt for this spark of hope amidst it all. "Thank you - Doctor Vega, I don't know how I can - oh, um I still owe some money," she admitted, cutting herself off as the thought occurred to her that this place might not be completely free, wrestling with her desperation not to let this chance slip by. "I - I can pay though, in work - do you need anyone to clean? Or - or anything really. I could talk to your little plant in the reception area. I've heard that helps them grow."

Aurora

Aurora’s smile spread wider with amusement. She waited quietly for the realization to break through Cleo’s walls of doubt and disbelief. Tears sparkled in the corners of the young girl’s wide, dark eyes. She knew it was real. “Why would I joke about something like that?” Aurora shook her head with a smile.

Aurora’s gaze wandered away to watch the wall lights blink back to life. It was no coincidence as a twinkle of new hope appeared in Cleo’s watery eyes. Aurora made a mental note: light. Much more experimenting would have to be done but for now, a little flutter of success was busy celebrating in her stomach.

She almost burst out laughing when the girl mentioned money. Of all the things Aurora was short on, human money was not one of them. She waved the girl’s offers away with small, nimble fingers. “We’ll work something out, just focus on getting back on your feet first.” You’re no good to me frozen to death in a ditch. Aurora hopped back to her feet and lifted her grocery bag onto her hip. “I’ll make some calls, find a storage unit in your area with a fair cost. How soon do you need to move out?”

Cleo

Cleo's brain was working at a mile a minute, as though she'd been unplugged for days and someone had suddenly just reconnected her to a power source. She didn't even notice that the doctor's focus was on what was going on above or around them - the flickering of the old fluorescent lights that illuminated the platforms.

She nodded eagerly when Dr. Vega laughed off her offer of money upfront and assured her that they would come to an arrangement later. She didn't mind if she'd need to pay the assistance off later. That would come. Right now, her focus was this chance to avoid becoming homeless right in the middle of a freezing winter. This woman was an angel. She had to be.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this," she said, shaking her head, still reeling from the lifeline she'd just been offered. "Honestly. It's just..." Her voice trembled, the events of the past few days threatening to overwhelm her for a moment. It was too much, what this doctor was doing. More than she had to. It was so much.

"I have until the twelfth," she said finally, not trusting herself to put words to much more.

Aurora

A tremor cracked in Cleo's throat. The sound triggered a strange tug of sympathy in her chest. She'd come to know what kind of emotions were preceded by such a pathetic, choking sound. She had first seen it in Earth movies, and later in her students as they were delivered their letters of expulsion. Tears, soggy and miserable, were not possible for Centauri. They had none of the necessary ducts and fluids. In the Centauri military, their pain had been expressed in more violent ways, or worse, in dead silence. Aurora admired the ability to cry. It had a sort of poetic beauty to it that reminded her of her home in the Northern swamps. Humans created rain from their eyes in their most tragic moments, rain that nourished new life.

Cleo's breath quivered in her chest. With a sympathetic smile, Aurora reached out small fingers to lift the girl's chin. Cleo searched for a way to thank her. "You already have," Aurora admitted. The girl had no idea how much she'd already done for Aurora's research, and how much more she could do. Aurora was itching for the chance to get some full scans and testing going. She wrapped her arms around her bag of groceries. Patience. It was not one of her strongest characteristics, but she was trying her best.

"The twelfth," she repeated with a nod, tucking the information away into her memory. "That's good, you have a little time." Aurora glanced up at the ceiling as she counted the days with a thoughtful frown. "You left your phone number with Deanna, right? I'll have her call you with any information on storage units nearby. Just focus on packing up your things to move out. Will you need any help moving boxes?" She only had one staff member to spare, but she could manage to run the clinic on her own for one afternoon if it meant Cleo wouldn't over-exert herself.

Cleo

Cleo didn't register at all what Doctor Vega was referring to, of course. She assumed that the doctor was just being kind; going easy on her for now until Cleo was in a position to make it up to her. She had no idea that even as she sat there, her DNA was slowly being rewired and reworked in a way that she couldn't even comprehend. That the person who'd triggered the process was sitting right next to her, offering her a lifeline.

"I did," she said, with the closest thing her tired brain could push her to eagerness. "All my information's there. My email address, too, although it's probably not worth using, tell her. I don't check it very much." Or, you know, at all.

She shook her head at the doctor's query about moving her belongings. "I don't, um... well. I don't have a lot of things to move," she admitted. She was keen not to risk putting Doctor Vega out at all. She was doing Cleo a favour and the last thing Cleo wanted was to make her regret it. She'd leave anything she couldn't move herself. The sofa wasn't even hers; it had belonged to a previous tenant.

"What happens now?" she asked, quietly, already mentally making lists of what she could get done each day leading up to the move in order to prepare. Prioritise her belongings. Attempt to sell what she couldn't bring. Clean the apartment. Get a few shifts in. Change her address with Cam. It could all get done if she was nice and organised.

Aurora

Aurora couldn't help but chuckle softly at poor Cleo's babbling. If only the girl could hear herself. Surely the shock of the situation still had the girl reeling. "Just make sure you have your phone on you," she concluded with a small smile. Once her housing vanished, Cleo's phone would no longer be a reliable resource. Even now, if the kid couldn't pay her rent, how could Aurora be certain she could pay her phone bills. Trust. She simply had to trust that Cleo could keep it together for a few more days. She supposed, if it came to it, she could find Cleo in other ways, but it would be terribly annoying to shut down the clinic for a day to track down one experiment gone rogue. Trust. Things would work out, eventually.

"Oh, alright. That makes it easy, then." She accepted Cleo's admittance that she didn't have much to move. With a shrug, she added as an aside. "If you need any help on moving day I can ask Deanna to pop by for a few hours. She's a strong girl, can at least help you with some of the heavier things." She didn't want to mention it, but she remembered it now--Cleo's registration paperwork had listed no emergency contact. Aurora doubted she even had anyone to call to help with these sorts of matters.

Aurora blinked in surprise at the next question before her reserved little smile widened with fondness for the poor lost child. "Just take it one day at a time. That always helps me when things get hectic. Focus on gathering what you need. Prioritize what needs to be done sooner, and what can wait. Don't push yourself too hard, Cleo. I don't want to see you back in the clinic with another nasty virus. You're still young, you have time to figure things out."

She shifted her bag and glanced behind her just as the train squealed into the station. "You have the number for the clinic, right? Call me if you need anything." Her tone sped up, hurrying to say her goodbyes and board her train. "You're going to be fine. See you on the 12th." Her eyes raised to check the lights one more time, an intrigued little smirk on her face, before she turned and shuffled off toward the train. "Don't burn out before then!" She tossed out the inside joke over her shoulder for her own sick pleasure.

Cleo

Cleo returned the woman's smile, a little bemused as to how to respond. It had been years since she'd had a conversation even remotely resembling this one. She tried to remember, and decided that the last time she'd spoken with someone like this had been the palliative care nurse in the days after she'd lost her father. The woman had provided as much guidance as she could before her hectic schedule hurried her on to her next assignment - the next victim of that hateful disease that had taken her father away from her.

One day at a time, sweetheart. Cry all you like for now - it won't last forever. You'll never forget, but I promise, it'll get easier to remember. You cry all you like.

Kindness. Wisdom. Reassurance. When you were alone, you had to learn to offer those things to yourself. Sometimes - often - you just... didn't.

Slowly, she sensed the conversation wrapping up, and sure enough the doctor stood as a train pulled on to the platform. Cleo took a deep breath as she pulled herself back to the present - one that had altered drastically in the past thirty minutes. The platform felt brighter, somehow. The dirty, smoggy air almost tasted fresher.

"Thank you again, Doctor Vega," she replied, her voice raised slightly in a bid to combat the bustle of disembarking bodies. "You won't regret this - I promise!"

The doctor vanished into the crowd, and Cleo was alone. As the sea of travellers rushed by, she could easily have convinced herself that the encounter had been a dream, but as she watched the doctor's train pull sluggishly out of the station, she knew she hadn't gone quite that peculiar just yet. She'd been thrown a lifeline, and if she was to have any chance at getting her life back on track, she'd have to grab it with both hands.

[yi-dashi-a]

They Call Him Yì Dàshī - Part 1

It was less of a tent, and more cloth held up by twigs, but still it served its purpose. Sleet bounced audibly across its roof, almost drowning out the groans from within. Rows upon rows of dying and the dead lay helpless. Some lacked sense, or an arm and leg, and those who didn’t cry out cackled instead. Most too were covered with weeping sores that pinkened their skin and sizzled with ill intent.

Reality was as simple as that while medics struggled against injuries and symptoms never seen before by the war effort.  

It helped little when an amalgamation of all the suffering nearly ripped the tent from its pegs as he tore open its door. Backlit by a muted sunset, and floating on whispers of thought, he stole the attention of all. Especially so when his voice managed to echo against cloth and carry on the gale,

“|Who is in charge here?|”

“|Y-You… you’re Master Yi!|”

As quickly as Yi had lorded his resolve, so too did it fall out from under him. Suddenly he found himself on a knee, dropping as if gravity wished to pick on him in specific. And even the most hardened of soldier’s present approached him with sluggish disgust, listening close as his husky voice began to fade,

“|I need to tell someone…|”

Unknowingly the Highlander placed a bloodied hand upon his side, expecting to find a pink and gold Ionian insignia there as it had always been. His nerves lit up however when raw skin met cloth, acidic like muck still clinging to him and eating away at the grime between the wefts of his gloves. Other hands then came about him, their ice cool rags feeling as if they were scraping away the skin and muscle of his entire right side, head to toe. It took him a moment to realise they were actually physically peeling his war regalia away from his wounds. The slightest tatters of red stained robe took with them protection from the cold, creating a strange battle between the burning and freezing of his flesh.

He would have screamed, but he was beyond the point of crying out.

“|What happened?|” Said some unknowable someone to the Bladesman, and wrapped up in his own ills it took a second, firmer, “|Wuju Bladesman! What happened to your squad?|” for his goggles to stir upon his head,

“|I don’t know…| Techmaturgical fire… Deadly machines…”

“|… I can’t understand you, Yi.|”

“|He’s dying, captain.|” Spat another man, “|I don’t think he’s in a position to be understood.|”

“|I’m not dying!|” Proclaimed the Bladesman, “|I just… don’t know… what…|”

“|…Yi, please.|”

“|What… happened..?|”

“|Master Yi!|”

The world dulled to his hextech eyes, and no matter how hard he tried to speak no words would leave his gravelly throat. Against the deep, gnawing agony it told him no more, and instead it focused on the deep pelting of the hail that thundered distantly. They hurriedly jostled him about, clearing out a dead man for a live one. With a thud and a wheeze, he came to rest on his front, and work continued whether Yi was aware of it or no.

Fire, he thought, his brain finding no resistance to a stream of consciousness, Explosions, gas, poison, death. Booming… Booming!

Suddenly the rattle of hail didn’t seem so inconspicuous, but before the rise and fall of his chest could leave his control, screeching torture returned along with proper comprehension of spoken word.

“Y... Yì Dàshī?”

Yi’s eyes widened, lenses along with them. Chest to ground as he was, he wasn’t facing the same way as the familiar voice, but he was as determined to change that as the man to his right was to speak up,

“|Master… P-Please. Is that you?|”

“|Easy now…|” Soothed a medic, but the Wuju Practitioner was already grunting and moaning as he arduously shuffled in his position. He nearly flopped back groundward with a hiss of air through his teeth, but the lenses stayed firmly where they sat. And it was important they did, because behind their furious actuations he could behold a sad and sorry soul.

He was half a man, his extremities mostly gone. He hadn’t been like this when last Yi remembered seeing him. For whatever reason he had to remind himself of that. That didn’t change the fact he was bleeding through his makeshift cloth bandages, the healer within noted, especially about the eyes...

“Nn… Sh…”

His eyes. His head was bandaged from top to bottom, allowing only room for speech and for his nose. It was clear though that some pustulant concoction wept from his skull, poorly contained as everything else was. Yet suddenly, Yi found, that when he should have felt his worst he was again fading into a murky grey existence. Upon beholding the man, the student, he felt his breaths measure themselves. The boom of the weather was still present, but it only served to enhance the things he heard.

“|Master..?|” The young soldier reached out with a stub of an arm, his voice ringing clear but distant, “|Did I… Did w-we… do good? Did we fight for what’s... right?|”

Yi’s own arm was a quivering mess as he tried to mimic the other. Against dull tearing sensations he just barely put a hand upon the man,

“Sh… Sh..!”

“…Shu, hm?”

It wasn’t often Yi saw his father’s posture falter, but it wasn’t often that he saw his father so utterly bored either. Sitting at the Wuju Master’s flank, as was tradition, he as well found himself reclining somewhat as the ordeal grew long. Two people, a man and his nervous son, stood before the stage upon which the Wuju Practitioners sat. The father, comedically enough, began to all but prostrate himself before the then Master of the Wuju art, his voice an urgent quiver,

“Yes! Indeed! My son is perfectly adept with the blade for his age. Trust me, and I would be so honoured as for you to take him into your school—“

“--You realise it has been thirty years since this place has operated as an enrolling school?” To that Yi had to scoff. He felt so important somehow, with his birth single-handedly shutting down the school, but despite the outburst the older Practitioner continued, “You came all the way from the Lowlands just to hear me say no. Perhaps with foresight you would have known not to come at all.”

“Please, Master Yi. My son’s destiny is not to run about a farm for the rest of his life. I know he has potential for greatness. Just give him a chance.”

“You already know my answer. If you need tea, or a place to stay, then you are welcome to stay here until you must depart again.”

“Master Yi you need to understand--”

“--However.” The Head of Clan rose to his feet, and Yi took it as his cue to do the same. The then Master was a short statured man, at least in comparison to his son, but he made up for it in an intimidating glare and menacing presence, “If you use this opportunity to continue kissing my sandals, or to try and continue pushing your son upon me, then I will have no choice but to ask you to leave.” The man looked over his shoulder, an audible ‘tch’ exiting his lips when he noted his son’s smarmy grin, “Student?”

“Yes, Master?”

“This meeting is done. Show our guests to a place where they may settle, if they so require.”

“Of course, Master.” In a flourished bow of a lengthy ponytail, and robes worn loose about his lithe body, Yi bustled by his father and set off, “Come along you two. There are plenty of rooms to choose from. Because, you know, this is a school.” With a snort and a laugh, he listened for the padding of their feet upon wooden boards, and sure enough they followed.

But rhythmic sounds of foot traffic soon gave way to a grovelling pest,

“There must be something you can do uh… What do I call you?”

“Don’t look at me.” Yi waved a hand dismissively, “I don’t run anything around here.”

“Surely you’re a powerful man, whatever the title? You must have some sway?”

Yi looked over his shoulder in the slowest of ways, doing so as the hallways they sought to traverse grew dim as sunlight fell away. But his amber eyes shone on still, striking further hilarious fear into the expression of the man,

“Oh, trust me. I have a lot of sway here. Whether any of that sway is for you is another matter entirely…”

But Yi’s voice trailed off when he noted the tiny, spindly boy that walked half a step away from his father. No fear lay there as he watched the Wuju Student’s eyes dance with yellow fire. His face was painted instead with a million questions it seemed, yet he lacked the initiative to ask them. That was something Yi thought to change.

Because why not? This was already boring enough. It wasn’t often they had guests there anyway.

“You know,” He began, turning his gaze forward as the hallway took a sharp ninety-degree bend, “For all the talking you’ve done, you have yet to let the boy say a thing. Not even to give his own name. What would he do if you left him here without his voice?” Though every doorway effectively housed a room of some description, it took Yi a while to choose one in specific. It was perhaps for his own Master’s sanity, if anything. When he finally pulled away a screen door to a dusty dorm, he ensured it was one with a good view of the temple’s courtyard… and of the gate that led out and away from the place. After inspecting the room momentarily, he turned with astute grace and held his amber gaze upon the child directly, “Shu, right?”

“Eh… Y-Yes Mister.” Yi stooped to the boy’s level then, resting his arms upon his braced knee,

“How many passes of the moon have you seen, Shu?”

“… Six. I’m six.”

“Six?” He made an impressed sort of whistle, “A whole six moons. I can’t even remember much from when I was six. Do you like swords?” The boy gave a slow nod, to which Yi inclined his head somewhat, “Do you want to be able to use one?”

“I’m sure he--” The father’s outburst was quelled with but the raising of Yi’s hand, for suddenly he found himself… entranced by the boy and his posture. Something was there, and even a journeyman of Wuju as he, was he felt compelled to test a child in his convictions,

“…Do you want to be able to use a sword, Shu?” Once again the boy nodded, but with more energy this time. At that Yi swiftly quipped with, “Why?”

“Wh…” Shu’s gaze lowered, his brow furrowing. For a moment he looked about the room, then to his silenced father, and then back to Yi. No answer was to be found with his eyes seemingly, so he parroted back the simple question, “… Why?”

“Yes. Why? Why a sword? Why Wuju? Why has your father brought you here?”

“He… I…” With a cute, deep breath, the boy pouted, “I asked to come here, Mister.”

“Oh?”

“Y-Yeah!”

“... Why?”

“Because I...” The child began to chew his lip softly, “... I like Wuju a lot.”

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” Leaning forward with a crooked smile, Yi asked once again, “Why?”

“B-Because… Because…” Shu’s tan face seemed to redden, and he fidgeted where he stood, “It’s because… You’re the demon, right?” To that Yi’s bushy eyebrows rose. Even children could be surprising, or confusing, it seemed,

“Demon?”

“Yeah... Yeah!” From somewhere within his robes the boy managed to fish out a piece of parchment, and with the wall of nerves breaking down he thrust it towards the Bladesman. Though it was a benign sort of thing, Yi still took it from the boy with an air of hesitation,

“What is… this?”

His honey eyes widened, a bit more than he’d care to let on, as he scanned the contents of the paper. It was a simple ink rendering with a style unmistakable. Upon it was a man with a great ringed sword, his robes billowing against the nebulous creature he faced. Its form was near undefined… but notably against the black, sharp ink some gold paint had been stroked for eyes, “… The Demon of the Sky. This was the dance of last Day of Blades. Old Man Wu-Chau paints these for Festival goers. How did you..?”

“I really liked the performance, M… Mister Hui, yeah? You’re the one who played the Demon of the Sky..?” Yi had to admit, he had little interest in the painted arts. Renderings of himself, however, were always things that stroked the ego yet somehow humbled him, especially when little kids took their drawings and held them close to their chest, “I came last year. I saw the fights, but I didn’t like them so much. But then I saw the dances… I want to be able to do that too! I found out it was a Wuju thing though. No one else teaches... so I just tried to remember myself for a long time. I practice every day.”

“… Practice what?” He managed to ask, but suddenly it was he who had the million questions.

“The dances!” The boy exclaimed, “I try to remember it all… but some parts I forget. The part in the drawing though, I remember that part. The part where the Wuju Master says he can run faster than the gale, but then the Sky Demon goes,” And before Yi’s very eyes did the boy take up his near perfect posture, going through motions to the tapping of his foot. Though lacking some finesse, the man almost heard the beat in his mind as the child hit just about every point. Amazingly so. Perfect angled hands corresponded with the right foot shuffling to a beat, and he could certainly keep time, “No, no, no! Back! No. No. No! Like that!”

The boy stood tall and proud at the end of his routine, clicking his heels together so as to stand stock straight, “I wanted to do that, even though my Papa wants me to fight...” That learned posture fell away as soon as it had come though, with Shu’s gaze returning to its nervous distance, “...but  I guess I won’t be doing that now, right? I... I’m sorry. I’m sorry for making everyone angry, Mister Hui...”

It was the Bladesman’s turn to look towards the father, the other man near ready to jump down his throat with excuses for his son’s supposed foolery. Excuses never flew, however, with the Wuju Practitioner rising swiftly to his feet. As trivial as it was, as laughable as it was... he couldn’t help but want to know more. About the child. About his drive. About how, despite all the cool things he must have seen during festival time, it was the non-violence that had drawn him to the temple. His robes were a flurry about him as he took off, stealing some sort of bewondered sound from the boy.

“... Follow me, kid.” He said, almost without thinking, to which the boy once again stuttered,

“Wh... Why, Mister Hui?” And with that know-it-all smile plastered back on his face, YI stopped only momentarily to reply,

“Let us dance.” Before he was lost to the hallways once again.

[storiesof2018]

Sea Dive

Bucky panted heavily, his lungs aching as they took in precious oxygen that his brain needed to keep him focused. The world was a blur of washed colors as the sun shifted closer to twilight. The cawing of seagulls echoed in the winds, while the raging tides roared against the shores of the beach he had taken himself to. The muddy relic in his arms was held tight against his chest, the prize and summation of his agonizing trip into the underwater cave beneath the island he stood on. He would always think twice now about ocean trenches whenever he took a swim in hopes of finding lost treasure. The greatest treasure in the world was in his grasp and now, all he had to do was deliver it to the sea mage that had bargained for it. Despite how tired he felt, how heavy his wet clothes made him feel, he slowly crawled his way onto the rocks on the beach. He was thankfully for the flat surface that made a bed for him to lie on.

“I did it…I really did it.” He chuckled heartily at his victory. There was a time when his thoughts would’ve been consumed with the idea of a lot of cash falling into his hands for such a discovery. Now, the only reward he could fathom and want was in the form of a elf-like beauty with mahogany colored locks and eyes, as brown as sweet chocolate, and a fin made of scaled sapphires. “Selina…” He whispered out to her, his tired gaze focusing in on the shores and watching as a shapely form began to swim its way towards him.

Propelling herself with deft grace in her fueled momentum against the undercurrents that rushed over the sleekness of her alabaster flesh; Selina advanced towards harboring shore that anchored her back to him, gleams of distant sunlight became captured in the roiling waves. Forthing eddies formed over the toned curves of her svelte waist as waves broke against her.

With every measured stroke of her arms, Selina reached closer, inexplicably drawn to the beckoning—visceral call of her name resonating achingly in the graveled huskiness of his deep timbre—desperation chased those rampant echoes. The lush swell of her crimson lips parted as salty water glazed over her tongue, as she arched her tail-fin beautifully high out of the fathoms, the incandescent scaled width eclipsed the delicate planes of her back, droplets cascading tantalizingly over feminine curves and the material of her light-blue sports bra in alluring contrast—truly a siren incarnate of the sea.

Standing impassively on the edge of the shore with steeled resilence, Bucky grounded his footing, his gray cargo shorts that fitted dangerously over thickened ridges and corded-muscles of the solid length of his thighs were drenched. His wary countenance was a stark variant of the daunting-wolfish menace of her beast machine; under the shadowing brim of his baseball cap, the hard-edge planes of his hawkish features were set into a telltale grimace, conveying infinite heartache he stubbornly leashed back. He appeared desirous-crestfallen to the potency of his unslaked desire of caging her into the passionate embrace of his shielding arms, holding her until the rise of daybreak. It was the inexorable division of their world-the cadence of their souls raged for closeness while the elements of the morphic curse towed her away from him.

Breaching the shallow end of the shore, her jeweled coffee irises clashed with his grayish-aquamarine as their gazes mirrored tellingly in flash of raw -irrepressible heat through his lengthy dark tresses webbed askew over the heaviness of his stubble jaw-they couldn’t wait any longer. Letting a seize of desire ride through her veins, Selina quickly braced her lithesome form against a rock’s smooth edge, temptingly challenging him to chase her in the shushing waves. “Are you coming to join me, handsome…” she purred sultrily, arching her back to expose the slight graven planes of her delectable, curvaceous waist that shimmered with a matrix of incandescent turquoise scales. “Come on, Barnes, don’t be shy…”

“Selina…” A joyous grin spread across Bucky’s lips and his eyes lit up like stars as he set his gaze on the radiant beauty he’d been searching for. Life had become much brighter since the day they first met. His love for discovering lost treasures had become second now that he’d found the one thing in life he thought would always elude him. It was a frightening thought, one he scarcely allowed himself to think over, but with the sea angel that wait for him by the shore, it was a risk he felt worth taking. “Its so good to see you,” he said as he brought himself to roll off the rock he’d been laying on. His body ached but he felt the short rest had abundantly refueled his strength as he pushed his way across the sandy path until he could feel the cool water sloshing against his n*** ankles.

The relic in his arms was set aside and he threaded loose strands from his temple. Slowly he sank to his knees beside the mermaid whose tail-fin rested in the waters. Silence hung in the air as they openly gazed at each other, warmth and wonder sparkling in their eyes, yet a small frown pinched Bucky’s brow as he remembered. “Where’ve you been? I called for you, I waited here for the past few days…You didn’t come.”

Guardingly her measures of restraint were balancing razor wire, as she quelled down a reactive throb knifing through her heart. The naked intensity of his grayish-aquamarine irises didn’t waver; raw heat of unshed tears was potent in throes of his anguished depths. The gravity of their harbored-unconquerable devotion seemed to be steeping with every new horizon-Bucky looked definitely vulnerable as he stood impassively on the shore’s porous edge, as the resurge of untamed hope feverishly seized his veins. With a deft stroke of her lithe palm, she grudgingly traced over the mass of scales that had melded into a tail-fin, repulsed by the physical absence of her alabaster toned legs.“Sorry for letting you down, handsome,” she finally returned, her gritted undertone hitching against a vehement seethe.“ I’m trying to figure all this out…” She lifted her hand out of water in a quick splash, gesturing to her cursive deformation. “I guess adapting to the damn water is all I have left and it’s not very thrilling…”

“Somehow I think I can imagine that,” he responded with a dry chuckle as she took in his soaked clothes and exhausted state. Inwardly, Bucky knew he couldn’t begin to understand what she was going through ever since this ordeal began to her—for both of them. What should’ve been a fun and generous vacation in Greece weeks ago had become a life-changing experience that saw them both forced to separate. The curse that enveloped her turned her into a creature that till now only existed in mythical texts and stories. Selina, his Selina, was a mermaid. A damn beautiful one at that, but unlike fairy tales, this wasn’t a happy outcome for either of them as he, her still very much human lover, could do nothing but stand on the sidelines and search hopelessly for a way to restore her.

Though they were divided by their place of habitat, their love kept them devoted and Bucky was determined to make it possible for them to be together again, as humans or merpeople.

“I know this hasn’t been easy for you, darlin’,” he said as he reached out to take her pale hand into his own. Oddly enough, her skin felt warm despite the fact she swam through the cold water more often than himself. He kissed the inside of her palm as she raised it to cup his face. He felt the warmth pouring off of her, calming his restless nerves so that he could continue. “It hasn’t been easy for me either, but you taught me that only the biggest score is worth fighting for.” Shifting on his knees, he reached over for the relic he’d recovered and brought it towards them. “Whether this works or not, I want you to know it won’t change a thing about how I feel about you.”

The last sconces of twilight gleamed over the steadiness of the water, captured in the fathoms as if liquid gold was being poured; with a shaky flex of her gliding thumb, she possessively traced over the full-bow of his sensuously wide lips, a phantom caress that seized his pulse, without a visage of hesitance stalling his restoked control, Bucky fiercely clasped his metallic fingers around her delicate wrist, as his arching lips bruised heady pressure over her knuckles, urgently tasting the saltiness of her pearlescent flesh, anchoring her to stay in his desperate reach. Within dueling seconds of lucidity, she became immobilized by the innate cadence of their nearing bodies, his supping lips slid feather-light over the edge of her curved palm while his teeth shivery grazed against ragged pants. “Buck-” She murmured breathlessly, closing her eyes to infinitely feel the aching reverence of his grounded devotion.

The huskiness of her voice delivered in a soothing whisper sent a pleasant shiver through Bucky’s body. His eyes closed slightly, taking in her unique scent of seaweed and jasmine that made everything feel fresh and savory. Her skin was like a warm blanket he was drawn to and he hopelessly wanted to be enveloped in her embrace. Time had stretched in the weeks since they had last been intimate, which made it seem more like months. The desperation and direness of their predicament made every moment restless and he couldn’t take the time to openly appreciate just how beautiful she was—as a woman, and a mermaid. His eyes opening, he caught her brown orbs glowing in the twilight of the setting sun. Enriched and enchanting, he was drawn towards her like a moth to the flame.

“You’re so beautiful, Selina Kyle. So much sometimes it scares me,” he smirked to convey a form of levity to his honest words. One of his free-hands held her hand in his while the other tender caressed her scaly hip. It was a mesmerizing experience as he felt the texture of her fin that reminded him of cool metal. The sapphire color blended with the water and yet somehow, appeared even more magical as the sun sank deeper into the horizon. Words failed him as he contemplated how to voice his approval of her new form, but the smoldering look in his eyes was enough of an indicator as he noted Selina looking at him with equal fervor. “You make one heckuva mermaid.” The distance between their lips slowly decreased, the tension of their intimate reunion was like a storm building and it would take only a slow tentative brush for lightning to crackle.

“Careful Barnes, don’t forget I can race with the sharks,” Selina quipped snarkily, her clashing senses raged to become abandoned at the space of heartbeat as she felt the virile softness of his edging lips increasingly ghost shivery heat over her angled jaw; she was blindingly falling back into the shushing waves, as he braced his bulked weight on his tauten forearms, aligning the length of his muscled calves with her tail-fin. A murmurous growl tantalizingly resonated from his depths-she was aware of his telltale surrender, feeling the extent of his unsated hunger readying to capture her lips with driving force of pure, unrepented heat. Nothing ebbed. She welcomed the delirious contrast of the cool water and the corded planes of his thickened chest shadowing fractionally over the ample swells of her garbed breasts. His metallic fingers drifted over the rigid scales, embracingly feeling the shifting mass that he would soon be weighed down with.

“Guess that makes me a lucky seal, huh,” he breathy quipped. And with that, his lips found hers at last, warm and fulfilling like entering a warm bed at home. It was soft and sweet at first, like two adolescents who were playfully exploring new territory, before it quickly grew heated. Breaths intermingled, minty and cool, lips feverishly hot as a dizzying passion overcame them. Their lips danced and overlapped in a familiar cadence that brought them closer together. Hands reached out and explored the planes of each other’s arms, shoulders and hair. Bucky smiled between their amorous exchange, boyish and full of life as he brought the mermaid into his lap. “C'mere.” He murmured. The added weight of her fin was oddly comfortable as he hugged her close and dipped her into another.

Shockingly the ardent urgency of his recapturing lips surged headier with every smooth thrust of his bristled jaw, there was no ease against warring tension between them, only a breakneck abandon that ignited a visceral beckoning as their swelled lips melded with throbbing paces challenge. The shifting glide of his robotic hand caressingly traced the sapphire-translucent fins-gracing the curvaceous mass, keeping her steady with intimate ease against the undercurrents stream-lining over them.

A breathless rush of pure heat solidified under the supplely cushioned pressure of his opened mouth as she intoxicatingly mirrored that heady pulse; starved desire was insatiably escalating with additive ferocity echoing with his throaty groans that chased her heartbeat.

Each rapturous tenor increasingly altered in unison, they became caught into the edge of the deepening kiss, through that unrelenting promise, unerringly Selina clung to his steeled embrace, registering the full heaviness of her tail-fin shifting against the rigid contours of his washboard abdomen underneath a soaked black shirt. Her lithe palm splayed over the broad curves of his shoulder, threading drenched-bladed tresses of his wolfish mane draped over his clenched jaw.

Aware of the bestial resilence in his flexing muscles on the verge of being unleashed, her widened tail-fin arced out of the water in reactive poise, Selina inherently braced her elbow into the seaweed coated sand as she arched into the heavy planes of his thickened chest, with blinding precision, his metallic fingers kneaded ravenously with spearing glide through drenched whorls of luscious mahogany, he palmed reverently over her graceful nape; that shivery caress induced evocative hunger beyond core restraint against bone-deep wanting.

Knowing the full extent- the sorcerous price of his heart, Bucky lifted his head fractionally, brunette tresses feathered the knife-edge curve of his bristled jaw, the aqueous depth of his glacial irises gleamed alight, a silver flame edged his dilated pupils-intense masculine ardor. “S'it’s been so damn long, kotenok…” The graveled rawness of his murmurous timbre had challengingly impelled her.“Hell, doesn’t matter now, we’re gonna strike this out, Lina…”

She didn’t want to deny that she craved for release from the sea-bound thralls. Evocatively, she urged the fusing-rhythmic variances of their joined bodies to implode, emitting a guttural snarl that stole her breath, his shapely lips slanted bruisingly over her lavish mouth, hungrily, Bucky changed the angle of the kiss with quenchless demand as the fervent duel ensued-raging through stowed heartache. She needed to live for one finite moment with him until dawn inescapably beckoned her back as he anchored her with invincible strength.

For Bucky, it was as if nothing had changed and everything was as right as it should be. Nothing mattered except this blissful familiarity, this closeness and bond with the woman he loved and there was nothing that would separate them. As their ravenous cadence continued with breathless enthusiasm, they were both dimly unaware of a presence in the sea. The normal lapping waves were disturbed by a fluctuating mass swooshing against the currents, sending a ripple effect across the shores. Bucky could sense nothing amiss, but he could sense Selina tense up in his arms and slowly cease her passionate exchange. “Lina? What’s wrong?” He asked her worriedly as he noticed a pensive look on her fair features. He brushed a curly strand from his face and caressed her cheek.

A portent suddenly rushed over them, shifting in the muscle strength of his arms with conscious reaction, Selina felt a cacophonous wake ascending, the rhythmic pulse of the bashing waves became turbulently violent as her dark coffee irises widened at the lucid ripples of ink teemingly jetting towards the shallow end of the vacant shore. Alarmingly, a deafening screech careened in spastic volume as she watched a shadowing mass of a colossal appendage-a writhing tentacle arcing to seize them into a choke-hold. The scarred width was unmistakably infused with suction cups ominously thrust out of the ocean depths and viperously coiled back above them; the intent to ensnare them was apparent. The rampant leakage of sludgy, odorous ink was making her tail-fin laden, she became arrested from mobility-cemented down.

“Buck-” She gasped in a breathless, gurgling pitch, blindingly forcing her lithe palms to deliver urgent momentum over the harden swell of his chest; pushing him away from her. The rancid miasma of decaying fish pervaded her nose, as she involuntarily quelled down the accelerated urge to vomit. “Get out of here…”

A creeping chill had ran down Bucky’s back the instant he detected the extent of Selina’s distress. It happened in the span of seconds, before the experienced soldier could react. He felt a violent force wrap itself around his neck; enormous and reeking of dead fish, it effortlessly yanked him off the ground and drag him across the sand. A choking gasp barely escaped him, his blue eyes wide with both shock and pain coursing through him. Selina remained on the shore, one of her hands reaching towards him while crying his name. He couldn’t find the breath nor strength to respond, his free hands struggled to pry the large unknown thing from his neck that sickeningly reminded him of an octopus tentacle. His instincts screamed at him to reach for his concealed knife tucked into his waist belt.

The roaring of waves deafened and large splashes of water crashed over him, obscuring his vision while an unearthly moan came from the seas. Bucky wrenched his knife from his holster and stabbed at the tentacle holding his neck. A roar bellowed and he suddenly found himself thrown violently against a rock. White hot pain crushed into his shoulder, his breath was robbed from his lungs and the world spun in a suffocating blur. “Se…lina…” He groaned searching for her with a dazed expression.

“I find it so amusing that mortals of the shore decide to penetrate domains that should not be left untouched by their gluttonous hands…” A malicious resonance of a discarnate feminine tone piercingly clashed over the disturbed shoreline; while jackknifing his torso off a heap of mushy sand to catch a resurge of breath, Bucky desperately punctured the snaking mass with a harsh traction of his brandishing knife gouging into the blackened scales. Geysers of ink spurted out, drenching his chestnut tresses hanging askew over his bruised temple, as he gnashed his teeth against unwavering ferocity invested in his reactive stabbing while he was being roped down to choke on his breath. “The price of that intrusion will demand your worthless blood to purge my treasure…”

“Claire?” Bucky said with a confused glare towards what appeared to be a feminine shape standing near the shore across from him. Though he was in an immense amount of pain, Bucky wasn’t disoriented enough that he didn’t recognize that familiar voice. Once the blur in his vision had sharpened into a clear focus, he could see the older everything much clearer now. Ever horrifying detail entered the forefront of his mind as he watched the older woman who he had thought to be a benign marine biologist and arcane enthusiast, reveal her true form. From the sea’s she emerged on a small tide-wave that never diminished in its force. It carried her as if she were commanding it. Her blonde hair glowed like fire in the twilight yet her once pale skin had become an unnatural cold blue.

And her eyes, her eyes were what unsettled him most. No longer the bright blue that would’ve charmed the hearts of even younger men, but now an amber hue that spelled danger for whoever she set her gaze upon. And currently, to Bucky’s chagrin, they were directed right at him. “What the hell is this?!” He demanded, feeling a surge of anger and confusion as he considered everything he’d been through today and what this woman…creature, had manipulated him into doing.

The stark measure of utter disdain was reflective in Bucky’s glacial aquamarine irises blazed gleamingly with unshed tears; the urgent extent of heartbreak was betrayed by her impeded tactics of deception. His shapely lips hung widely agape as he forced up heaves of breath, the constant eeling pressure of the swatching tentacle bruising his throat, he was temporarily a reluctant hostage to his damn vulnerability- the unbidden hope of being infinitely reunited with his enchanted kitten. The gravity of the extraction mission was a simple task; he recklessly followed her directions to an underwater cavern and snatched up the forbidden relic-he’d blindingly walked the wire of devotion, and now he was about to plunge into soul-deep thralls of a reckless defeat-the steepening price he couldn’t evade.

“You poor diluted fool,” She grinned sneeringly. “I needed mortal hands to retrieve Poseidon’s little treasure since you were so desirous to change for that beautiful siren over there,” she gestured a hand measuringly to Selina. “Well you didn’t disappoint me, and I am content for that, dear James, so beholden I will grant your wish…You desire to live forever in the sea with her, to surrender your humanity to the fathoms, then open your mouth wide and give it all to me…”

As Bucky listened to the sea-witch’s ramble, he had an inkling sense of peril. The way she spoke reminded him too much of an arrogant and cruel Trickster who believed humanity were nothing more than ants to be stepped on. The sting of her lies and betrayal was like a concealed knife going for the back. Every impulse inside of him told him to retrieve his knife, take Selina and get far away. But it wasn’t an option. Even if he could fend off this woman—this siren—he couldn’t get Selina away from the water without endangering her, and he wouldn’t leave her here either. That much he knew. Despite the aches in his body, he squared himself into a straight posture. He met Selina’s gaze not too far from him and did his utmost to reassure her with a tight smile.

“I’m not givin’ you anything’, lady.” He said up at her defiantly. “Whatever your name is. Something tells me you didn’t have me go through all this trouble to retrieve a rusted piece of junk unless it was for something worth lying over. If you were really willing to hold up your end of the deal, you could’ve just been up front instead of playin’ me.” He pointed out with grave tone. His metal hand lifted the relic into the air and contemplated his options.

“Buck-” Selina railed out, breath exploded from her lungs; a wet glide of errant tears dripped feverishly down the smoothness of her alabaster cheeks, the putrid ink was slathering over the scaled expanse of her laden tail-fin; with a desperate effort as she pinched her eyes, quickly, she flipped onto the taut planes of her bare abdomen; relenting against the sorcerous grip that was trying to immobilize her. The sliding momentum in the variants of her movements became sluggish, gravity was against her. Bracing her elbows over discarded kelp, she became crushingly aware of the sea-witch’s true intent—Bucky was being pinned down into the inevitable crosshairs. “Handsome, don’t you dare sell out yourself to her…”

“Arghhh…” Exploded from Bucky’s gaping throat in deafening volume as breath felt threaded; with bruising force, he was mercilessly pinned against sand, remnants of kelp flitted in the humid breeze as his drenched chestnut tresses messily webbed over his paling, bristled cheeks. The whirring pulse of his cybertronic arm faded out, a writhing tentacle plowed the shoreline, leaving a trail of blackish ink that spawned a parasitic odor.

A vicious flash of malevolence eerily illuminated over the hawkishly chiseled planes of her flawless ivory features, the hollowed lines of her jutting cheekbones etched into a ghoulish semblance that bespoke a devoid of mercy; the amber blaze of her glowering irises searchingly fixed on the disinterred relic Bucky heft up in the rigid clutch of his cybertronic hand. Sacrilege energy pulsated off the eroded casing, tendrils of rust sifted, revealing a golden shine beneath.

The wake of a dark conjuring had begun, Clarion felt the untapped power bestirring to become wielded. It was time to indulge a harvest of gorging mortal vitality, to eradicate the rapacious parasites that infected the ocean realm. The relic was one of the five beacons to open a cosmic gateway—to unleash a hellstorm of that would ravage the mortal world apart.

At the present moment, Clarion needed to remove her compliant, roguishly handsome thief from existence. She would use his heart’s desire against him—chasten him forever into the worthless throes of an undeserving curse. With a swift gesture of her scaled hand, the black tentacle lessened throbbing pressure over Bucky’s throat, giving him a chance to breathe.“It seems I have underestimated the price of your love towards your beloved mermaid, release my relic and I will stake my offer and make your pathetic wish become a reality to mirror a new existence with her… Isn’t that what you want, James, to trade off your strong legs for a useless fin?” she offered, tauntingly.

Once he had been released, Bucky had falling into a fit of choking coughs as his lungs struggled desperately grasp onto the much needed oxygen they’d been deprived of. His ears rang wildly and a pounding in his skull alerted him to an increase in blood-pressure and stress. Despite it all, his gaze never broke away from the sea-witch and towards Selina not too far from him who looked on with mild disbelief. He knew he should’ve told her the truth about what he had planned in that his mission wasn’t solely to find a means to reverse the curse placed on her, but to put it on himself as well. She would’ve never gone along with it, he knew. But now that she knew, he could only surmise that she knew who Claire really was all along and whatever it was he’d agreed to was bad news.

But he didn’t care about that. He had a mission, and that was to make sure they could have a life together, as humans or as merpeople. Once he felt able enough to speak, he stood tall and faced the sea-witch with conviction. “That was the deal. I got your treasure, and now give me mine. Either give Selina her humanity back, or make me like her.”

A terse growl tamped up her throat, with leashed poise not to blight him into oblivion, Clarion became repulsively aware of the rigged depth of his telltale heartache; he desired for his humanity to recede into her thralls-to become a wretched creature of the sea because of unabandoned love. Allowing vehemence to feed her decision of acceding his wish, her lips arced dauntingly. “Alright, I shall grant your pitiful wish, James, you want to share the fathoms with her, then be human no more…”

For a moment, Bucky stood puzzled by the suddenness of her acceptance. Time and again, he wondered if he was making the right decision in the face of a monumental choice. In his original time, having Steve beside him helped him to not only see a positive, but to also to keep himself from making rash decisions in the face of emotion. Deep down, he knew the decision he was about to make was one born not out of logic and intuition, but pure emotion. He loved Selina, and there was nothing he wouldn’t do to be with her again, as a man or a merman. Clarion in front of him had all the makings of a sinister villain, but he knew that to refuse her wouldn’t just ruin his chance at being with Selina again, but also make her an enemy that he couldn’t fight. Not like this.

“All right, I’ll give you want you want.” Bucky took cautious steps towards the sea-witch with the old jewelry case in hand that contained a necklace for all he knew. He felt her penetrating stare on him the way until he set the relic down on a rock no more than a few feet from her. The instant he did, he felt a cold chill seize him from head to toe, permeating both flesh and bone.

Feeling the pulsating aura generating from the discarded golden case that Bucky had flung at the breadth of her grounded feet, with a contented semblance of indulgence, Clarion welcomed the gravitic assonance of the sea-the Eye of Kronos was finally in her scavenging grasp to wield. Her lurid azure eyes chillingly blaze intensity of amethyst, as her lithe hand viciously scythed the air, ensuing an implosion of white-hot energy in the beckoning wake of her convergence- the resurrection of power; blindingly stealing Bucky’s vision as he dizzily collapsed on his knees in stilted mobility, seething out a bitten-off curse raggedly.

Not betraying her vindictive resolve to deliver a conjuring tumult in alacrity, she would be generous on bestowing him with his heart’s urgent demand-force Bucky to recognize the prevalent cost of his failure once his defiant spirit was inexorably seized into a new vessel of worthless existence. Unnervingly, gazing at Bucky’s feral visage, chiseled, broad planes of his youthful features honed like a knife-edge, as he jutted his stubbled jaw aggressively. He definitely reeked of masculine vitality and warrior elegance, his mesmeric grayish-aquamarine irises alighted stormily like cold steel under disheveled, lengthy tresses draped over the heaviness of his cleft chin-he was on the hairbreadth of restraint.

It was time to strafe off that innate sensuous beauty -evict the bestial-tenacious strength he fiercely harnessed that infused the sculpted contours and sheathed tautness of his bulked mass. A merman form was too rewarding for him; Clarion wanted him to become conquered into a morphic onslaught of defeat-watching every corded expanse of resilient muscle exponentially dissolve into a blubbery slug of listless pudge-he would never embrace his gorgeously beloved lover-mermaid- with tempestuous intimacy.

Smirking wickedly, with smooth ease of her hand, she began uttering in a Greek resonance.“Απαλλάξτε την ανθρωπότητα του James Barnes, δώστε του μια φωνή της θάλασσας που μόνο η σειρήνα του θα ακούσει … Συσσωματώστε τη σάρκα σε γούνα, τον κάνει να φουσκώνει μέχρι να ξεθωριάσει ο προβληματισμός του …(Divest the humanity of James Barnes, give him a voice of the sea that only his siren will hear…Merge flesh into fur, make him bloat until his reflection fades…)”

“W-What’s going on…” Bucky shuddered, unable to shake the sudden onslaught of something cold and sickly permeating him from head-to-toe. Every fiber of his being felt invisibly tethered to the witch’s command. He knew to expect a change, but what he was feeling now was dread—a calm before the storm. Selina’s transformation was relatively benign and painless despite its shock, but what he was feeling was nothing short of encroaching agony. “W-What are you doing?” Bucky leveled a glare at Clarion who smirked down at him cruelly. It became increasingly harder to speak as a strangled groan escaped his lips. He felt as if his molars were being pulled from his jaws and his tongue was as dry as a desert, lacking the moisture to spew words. The pain was piercing and leveled his brain was a vicious migraine.

Static rang in his ears, deafening to the point he felt as if it were absorbing him totally with every sound that failed to escape him. His skin burned and the hair in his pores prickled like hot needles. He could only sink to his knees and cradle his face, feeling as if a weight on his cheeks was making him heavier. Through it all, Selina watched with open horror.

Bracing her palms into the damp trenches of sand with an urgent momentum of fluid grace, Selina keenly registered the squeaky gnarling that emitted against his clenched teeth; visible ribbons of crimson streaked down his expanding neck as he feverishly slayed his clutched palm over the bulging mass sagging underneath his stubbled chin. The nauseous stench of putrid fish grew in rancid potency against the harrowing wake of the spell cast. A helium-induced squeak disturbingly emitted out of his depths when his quivery lips stretched agape, revealing spiked incisor fangs. With a launching thrust of her arced tail-fin, while dragging her svelte weight in a rushing glide, she effectively gained enough unimpeded traction to reach his side only to alarmingly reel back when a nacreous tendril of bluish energy impaled through her core, arresting her breath as she gasped out his name. “Buck-”

A quake of anxiety shook Bucky’s body, bringing him onto his back while the world spun in a blurry maze of colors too fast to distinguish. Nausea followed, so demanding he felt his breathing constrict and the urge to vomit became unshakeable. He rolled onto his stomach, releasing a bellowing cry of agony once a throbbing pain in his gut protested the sudden move. His free-hand unconsciously cradled his aching waist which revealed a horrifying revelation by the swelled protrusion of an expanding belly. “W-What?” He panted in shock. What was happening to him? What was that witch doing to him? “S-S-Selina…” He groaned, tears gathering in his unblinking eyes that finally closed tightly as if they were being stitched shut. He could hear her cry out for him, so far away and unreachable.

The struggle to speak became an unwinnable battle as his throat closed up; a swelling forming on his larynx that made each sound he made come out in the form of a squeak. An inhuman noise that one would expect from an animal. His eyes snapped open immediately as he felt every nerve and bone in his body tremble uncontrollably with convulsions. He wanted to scream, he wanted to lash out in any way that could make the pain stop. Pain was an old friend, but his mind could only fathom the horror of what was happening to him as he watched his fingers and hands mold into a foreign shape. Along with his skin, the hot needling sensation turned into an insufferable itching as fur sprouted from his pores.

Contractive pressure in the width expanse of his protracting stomach evoked a frantic resonance of his guttural squeaks to increased with raw anguish torturously ushering unwarranted dread to arrow into her irate heart, Selina instinctively lurched back as her dark irises chased the evident deformation of his rigid fingers sickeningly melding into a furry glob of chestnut that unmistakably reshaped into a jutted flipper. Dewy hooked claws extracted out from Bucky’s flattened digits in sync as the curved expanse of his muscled forearm began to rapidly contract into the outstretched material of his tearing black shirt.

The corded length of Bucky’s powerful calves became stubbed under vaporous arcs of mythic energy; as dislocated bones in his feet liquefied into a sludgy ooze, melting flesh blackened into a finned appendix that was shockingly akin to seal’s tail-fin. He no longer had legs to bridge the heaviness of his fattened bulk up. He felt boneless like a glop of jelly; as he became atrophied on his back.

Clamorous panic racked through his rubbery folds of dark fur in rapid fruition. Reality crushed him with force of a sledgehammer, his unkempt wolfish tresses were being sheared off his skull-he felt powerless-immobilized against threads of sanity. His blearing gaze clashed with Selina’s teary coffee irises that disarmingly echoed stark agony that she couldn’t bridle down with a measure of restraint.“S'just make it stop…” he cried out with shuddery pants, despairingly feeling his pointed fangs gouge into the deformed swell of his puckering lip. “I don’t wanna be this…”

A sulfuric raze of odor wavered nauseously around him which evoked a slosh of bile to mount in his flabby throat. The defined edges of his graven features became sheathed with furry layers of chestnut. He felt the taut ridges of his abdomen swell disgustingly outwards in expanding mass; that only stemmed his banking alarm-he was inevitably morphing into a squeaky tub of unpalpable blubber. “Grah…”

Thunderous concussive echoes hammered in his ears, a rush of wet heat trekked down the pudgy thickness of his cheeks as his straining abdomen continued to balloon into a rounded-overlapped expanse of lumpy flab. Rearing his head up, grimacingly with a sluggish tilt of his bulgy jaw, his glacial aqueous depths enlarged in telltale reaction to hysteric intensity against the latent heaviness possessing over him. Nothing abated in those painstaking moments as Selina watched him thrash his obese mass erratically, his thickening back suddenly jackknifed off the ground, he feverishly released a shredded growl, underlying his morphic rebellion in high-pitched volume. “Hrghh…”

The pain and shock led him adrift on a sea of denial, making Bucky wonder and hope that he was caught in the midst of a nightmare that would soon wake up form. But deep down he knew that reality and the world they lived in could be cruel. The changes he was aware of confirmed his initial thought that Clarion had screwed him over and he wasn’t being turned into a merman. He wouldn’t be swimming on the high-seas with Selina beside him, starting a new beginning together where nothing and no one could drive them apart. Instead, he would be a burden, too fat and furry for his beautiful kitten to love. His growing mass made him feel like an immovable block of concrete on the sandy shore, so damn heavy not even the tides could pull him in.

His legs, like his hands, had melded together into a blob of wet fur. His clothes had long since tore from his increasing mass, leaving him as nothing more but a naked ball of furry fat. His facial muscles twisted into something he couldn’t see, but from his nose he could spot long whiskers sprouting from his snout. A snout…He was a seal. He didn’t need to look in the mirror to be aware of the horrifying fact. Slowly, the pain in his body diminished until he was left in a blimped heap of exhaustion and unbridled panic. “I-I'm…I'm…”

“You’re a mortal spirit is now entombed within a fatten slug that prowls the borders of your diseased surface world …” Clarion remarked mockingly, narrowing her raved gaze down at the overly plump male harp’s glacial orbs widened as unprecedented dread assailed over Bucky, feigning despondence; he ashamedly shadowed his pudgy, whiskered muzzle with a stubby flipper, incoherently emitting out a high-pitched squeak while his fanged mouth drooped agape into a bewildered gasp.

With errant glide of tears streaking his pudgy muzzle, Bucky didn’t want to gaze at his damned reflection captured in the cresting waves that bashed against his slacken pudge as dark currents of ink dissipated underneath his dormant weight. She had gunned him down with a calamitous scourge as if the curse was a warranted penance of his mortal sins.

Clumsily lurching back on his clawed-flippers, Bucky felt like deadweight, it took a forced effort to shift the flabbing mounds of his brunette-slivery fur as the last remnants of his torn clothing peeled off the expanse of his girth. His vision became detached against a blear of welling tears as Clarion registered a telltale whimpery sniff before the bloated harp dismally pinched his eyes shut, feeling speared by the azoic force of unbidden heartache-defeat beyond measure.

In that stalled moment of her sepic tolerance, as she proceeded to retake the arcane relic off the mortal border, Clarion raked her viperous azure depths repulsively over the pudgy rolls of chestnut shaping over his bulbous girth that indistinguishably morphed him into a hefty sea beast-he was another ravaged soul that she deceptively roped down into throes of a befallen-damnable curse. “I never give you wretched mortals what you desire from the sea,” she hissed in a scathing pitch, her eyes flashed luridly with demonic hunger. She extended her hand, commanding a worming tentacle to seize her disinterred relic.“Not to worry, dear James, you’ll have a plentiful life in fathoms…Soon you’ll only relish about chasing fish instead of your beautiful love…”

The condemnation of Clarion’s words crushed Bucky like a ton of bricks as he squeaked, tossed and turned on the wet sand. He tried to stand and face the evil witch down, but his body no longer possessed poseable legs for him to manage such a feat. The feeling was like phantom limbs that were no longer there. Inwardly, he screamed in both distress and fury. The sounds he emitted were torturous and inhumane. His hands lashed out and he was mortified by the sight of short dark fins. No longer were they the appendages of metal and flesh that pulsed with strength. He was a harp-seal, nothing more than an enormous tub of fat and wet fur, and most alarming was that he was completely vulnerable beneath the evil witch’s stare.

“This isn’t over.” He sneered at her once he managed to roll over onto his belly. His nerves were filled with panic and he could either cry in despair or yell in anger. The latter was more preferable. “I won’t quit…Can’t.” He watched as Clarion’s body morphed until her tentacles vanished and her blue flesh took on a more human-like tone. She walked across the sand towards the rock where the relic was left, ignoring him completely as she retrieved it.

“Oh really,” Clarion snickered tauntingly, glaring at the fattened harp arch sluggishly on his swollen girth for headlong traction in his dormant momentum; within a fringe of a second, his stubby flipper desperately stretched with reaching intent for the abandoned relic that was in the heap of his shredded clothing. Bucky wouldn’t give her the victorious luxury of shackling his hellbent spirit into an oversized blubbery slug. In a vehement reaction, she propelled her barefoot in dragging motion, and viciously forced a haze of sand towards his muzzle, half-blinding him as he feverishly squeaked against the piercing sting-obstructing his resolve.“You honestly think that you can subdue my curse, I divested your reckless humanity…Dare to cross me again, dear James, and I’ll strip away your voice…”

Bucky said nothing, his sight and mouth obscured by the sand that was kicked in his face. He felt weak and pummeled. It brought back memories of his childhood when he was still too young to stand up to bullies and fight back. The fight inside of him still burned like a hot flame. But his body was as numb as ice. The spirit was willing but the flesh was weak. He could do nothing but watch as Clarion turned her back and carried the relic with her towards the sea. Her prize and victory trophy. The silence that hung over the area like a smothering pillow, was lifted and the noise of waves crashing against the beach rang loudly in Bucky’s ears. Clarion had left him to his fate. A defeated soldier, a defeated man—twisted and morphed into a repugnant sea-mammal that could never hope to be loved.

Not by someone so beautiful as Selina Kyle.

“Selina…” He squeaked into the sand, immoveable and lifeless as he watched the waves. He could sense someone approaching until a small shadow hovered over him.

With a caustic slide against the roughened sand, bracing her elbows for measured traction, undeviatingly against gritted teeth, Selina utilized remnants of her core strength;closing distance between the crestfallen male harp. The heaviness of her tail-fin weighed her down, the sulphuric air felt compressive as her svelte form locked into a planking stance, feeling a telltale contrast infuse against the sleek-bare contours of her curvaceous abdomen as she effectively arched herself inches off the ground, dragging her mid-drift over a heap of his discarded clothes. “Hold on, James…” she heaved out, breathlessly, gazing down at slacken rolls cushioning his blubbery side as he remained sulkily impassive on his bloated girth. Her lithe palm reached fractionally to grace his flipper that curved over his jutted muzzle, caressingly as he subtly quaked under her tentative strokes, imploring him into a grounded wake of steadiness.

“No…No. Stay away!” A harsh squeal emitted from the seal’s muzzle. Somehow the mermaid was able to sense the pain and anguish in the sound. His voice wasn’t the soft baritone with a silky Brooklyn drawl that could calm her nerves. Not anymore. The scratchiness of his words was stifling and hard to grasp. Bucky shuddered beneath the chill of anxiety creeping through his veins. His mind, unable to comprehend and accept the changes, tried fruitlessly to will his body to its command. Nothing worked, he couldn’t sit-up like a normal human with a poseable spine, he couldn’t push-himself up with hands that were no longer there. He couldn’t even roll over to look at his surroundings! Agitation and creeping stress clawed at him and the seal couldn’t contain the cry of agony that ripped from his throat.

“GRAAAH!” He wailed, but the sound that pierced the airwaves was of a howling animal that startled the seagulls off the shore of the beach. He could feel Selina lingering beside him, unsure of what to do as she tried to calm him down.

The knifing volume of his aggressive, guttural squeaks felt deafeningly akin to a sub-machine gun firing a continuous fusillade of bullets that riddled through her heart, cutting her deep until breath was arrested out of her. Lurching back in deft reaction against the raging cadence that morphed into a raw gnarl that resonated like heartache, Selina felt a blearing rush of tears edging for release as her liquid coffee irises gazed down at the underswell of his furred girth disturbingly increasing in width-he was fattening up to a listless extent of immobilization. The sea-witch had slingshot his humanity out of existence; his grip on reality was dissected into splintering anguish.

Keeping her curved palm anchored on his palpitating side, her dainty fingers drifted over rubbery mounds of plump flab, until she eased a flipper off his scrunching muzzle, gleamingly staring into the glacial aquamarine orbs beginning to darken into a soulless pitch of black. She was losing him-she had to enkindle his stoked defiance. “Don’t think for a second that I’m leaving you to dance alone, handsome,” she fiercely murmured, her palm tensing under the nick of his whiskers. “The damn curse doesn’t own you…”

Selina’s words ghosted over him like a warm blanket, but he couldn’t bring himself to be enveloped in its comfort. His hands…fins, trailed down the expanse of his enormous stomach, feeling nothing but sickening fat and wet fur. He was a beast, a fat and pathetic tub of meat that people would find amusing if not repugnant. Anger and hate festered inside of him, towards Clarion for doing this to him, but most of all towards himself for falling for her tricks, and preying on his desperation to save the woman he loves. The same woman who was trying get him off his fat-ass and not sink into the depths of despair. Bucky grunted and tried to shift away from her touch, finding himself unworthy of it. He was hideous; neither a merman nor human. How could she love him?

“How can you even look at me, Lina?” He squeaked as his black eyes gazed up at her. Her elf-like beauty caused his heart to swell. With both longing and heartache as fear of being forever separated, forever different, occurred to him. “I’m not Bucky anymore…I’m nothing.”

It was too damn obvious that Clarion’s soul-ravaging witchery was riding him into a vacuum of unbidden hopelessness, Bucky was on the verge of accepting his blighted fate, instead of abandoning him to choke on his tears, with fluid grace, Selina aligned her lithesome body against the rotund expanse of his laden-cushy form, sensing his vulnerability through sobs racking through him-nothing could be quashed down.

The unevaded connection became intimately snug as if she was sinking into an overlarge marshmallow as roiling waves lapped over their tail-fins. She embraced her capturing arm over his girth, holding him with unshakeable control. The fusing variation of their damned aquatic forms felt viscerally natural to the limits of their devotion. Lifting her hand to his muzzle with unerring intent, her thumb glided shakily over the jutted curve of his fanged mouth, tracing the sensuous bow-shape that with unfeigned reverence. “We’re going to fight this together, Buck, ” she whispered, promisingly, securing the heaviness of his blubbery mass close. “…if there’s a relic out that can change you back, we’ll find it.”

“T-T-T-Together…” Blearily, Bucky fathomed the hopeful intent in her words. The longer he laid immobile, he felt as if he were sinking into an abyss of ignorance and confusion. The world was a blur and the suffocating plume of Clarion’s magic hung in the area surrounding him. He felt dry, burdened and vulnerable in a way a soldier would in an opened-space where anyone could take a shot at him. He needed to…He needed… “Can we?” He questioned, feeling a wet trail of emotion pour down his furry cheeks. He wanted to give in, allow the despair to fully engulf him until he forgot everything and everyone. But the moment he felt her hand lovingly caress his mouth, everything became so much more clear—so much more hopeful. “Lina…” He sniffed, nuzzling her hand affectionately.

“The sea…it…its calling me.” He squeaked. The hairs on his body rose on end as if he were being attracted by a magnet. His weary eyes gazed at the horizon and the calm waters that looked as welcoming as a warm-bed.

Tactilely Selina’s fingers kneaded over his sheathing mounds blubber as the amber sconces of the fading horizon became capture in the rapturous waves that clashed against them, beckoning for her to usher him into the ocean fathoms-an isolated sanctuary away from the undercurrents that she had recently discovered while venturing pass barrier reefs; the surging need to return couldn’t be evicted.

They were both conditioned-lethal fighters who dared to breach the shadows; instrumentally fashioned by traumatic depravity that chastised their souls into throes of unforgiving pasts-explosive validity ran bone-deep like acid poured in a keg of diesel waiting for a lilt match to fall. Maybe they were free of being masquerading phantoms-Bucky’s voluntarily choice to surrender his humanity revealed an unbreakable promise of undying love.

He gave everything up to be with her in the sea, even if he now existed in the visage menacingly chubby harp; he was still her handsomely suave beast-machine, that would never change. They were inextricably bound together in the elements of land and sea. Heartbreakingly, Bucky’s throated squeaks drew up gravelly low as he steered his reluctant gaze achingly towards the clear sea-a different plane of existence to cross over.

The pressure of the sloshing waves had increasingly shifted with sonic echoes of a nearing storm- the intensity of distant lightning forked through darkened clouds, as Bucky’s shaded orbs arrested the spastic flashes, piercing light of voltaic azure gleamed mesmerizing with bestial heat-shivery lancing through her as prevailing hope escalated. He didn’t fully morph-his fighting spirit was anchored to a harbor of their humanity. Banishing all wage of her uncertainty, Selina gave him a breathless, watery smile, as her finger ghosted over his muzzle.

“Let’s get out of here, shall we, seal-boy” she purred sultrily with a kittenish play of a coy quirk tugging effortlessly on her burgundy lips,“Sticking around might call some unpleasant company to appreciate your chubby ass, and handsome,” Her dark irises flashed teasingly down at the swelled-out mounds of blubbery flab.“You’ve got a big ass move…”

The playful familiarity of Selina’s words was like a warm balm that Bucky felt soothe his very soul as he wrinkled his nose and gently nuzzled her shoulder affectionately. It was strange, but somehow natural in the sense he no longer had poseable lips. The dread in his stomach ebbed as he noticed the tender smile on her face as she then lovingly caressed his cheek. “Can’t argue with that, darlin’. Can’t say I’m looking forward to being a fat beach-seal. But as long as you’re my swimming-partner, I’d say its worth the ride.” It was truth, no matter which way things turned out.

He had been willing to sacrifice his own humanity if it meant they could share a life together as the same life-forms, but instead a much different and punishing form had been forced onto him. Fate or whatever power was at work in the world continued to throw life-changing obstacles in their way and somehow, they would find themselves past them and come out stronger. They had to. Hope was an ideal that Bucky latched onto, despite all the pain and suffering he’d endured in his life-time. It wasn’t just something he chose to accept, it was gifted to him by those he relied on most. Selina was his hope, his anchor to the man he used to be—the man he still could be.

For that, he would follow her anywhere. Love could take them above and beyond, and as the harp seal and the mermaid slowly waddled their way into the gentle tides of the sea, they never felt alone nor lost.

Completed: {August 25th 2018}